


What Lies Ahead

by Evaonix164



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Canon-Typical Violence, Exploding Heads, F/M, Minor Character Death, Nate and Nora didn't have such a good relationship SorryNotSorry, Nate is Dead, One drop dead sexy ghoul mayor, Original Plot, Shaun is Dead, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, blood lots of blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:30:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 67,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8569666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evaonix164/pseuds/Evaonix164
Summary: In her arms, held close to her heart, is the tiny corpse of her infant son, a stray bullet ripping him too soon from this life. Through bloodshot, teary eyes, she watches herself as she lowers her world into the shallow grave, right next to his father."I'm sorry.." it's not even a whisper, her voice too hoarse from hours spent crying. "Mama's so, so sorry..."--Weeks later, she finds herself on the verge of death, stumbling into a town at war. In a world full of irradiated humans and chemically enhanced men, what hope could it offer to a woman whose lost it all?------Okay..so I started this fic back when i was pregnant on bedrest, and writting with a 1 year old is suuuuper hard, but I intend on finishing this slowly, but i thought Id put this here for any new readers. It sucks waiting on a fic, I know and an sorry. :(





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *****This chapter hints at attempted rape, I put a warning in the story RIGHT before it gets iffy, and another when things calm down. You won't be missing a whole lot if you chose to skip that bit, you'll be able to piece things together.
> 
> Otherwise, here's my first Fallout fanfic! :) I feel like things in the game are relatively light hearted, so this fic will probably be focusing on a bit more of the...mature aspects of the game in more detail. So expect a lot of gory deaths, cursing and...stuff. 
> 
> Hancock comes into play around chapter 3.

How long has it been? A few days? At least a week, at the earliest. She'd stop keeping track, why even bother by this point? By the way things have been going, she wouldn't last much longer. Dehydration, hunger, or even the mutated creatures, loosely resembling the harmless animals she remembered, could do her in at any moment.

The war was bad, she knew that, hell, even “bad” was an understatement, but to think that things would go so far was something no one could have predicted.

How could anyone ever think the once vibrant state of Massachusetts, and probably the world as far as she knew, could be reduced to such a bleak, barren wasteland? Was she the only survivor? What if she was the last human on Earth- what then?

Her mind starts to wonder, not for the first time, to a place of 'what ifs.'  
  
What if that man never came, would Nate still be alive? Would they still have Shaun? Or would they all have met the same fate as her neighbors, suffocating due to some fucking malfunction?  
  
And what if they never fled to the vault? Could death by radiation really be worse than whatever god awful things the world has to offer?  
  
She thinks back, looking through that window, unable to help- to even scream, as she watched her family slaughtered. They'd tried to take Shaun, but Nate had resisted...she watched as the first bullet pierced straight through his shoulder, right into their sons tiny body.

Saw the second bullet blow right through Nates skull...and then-  
  
_Fuck!_  
  
She'd been a lawyer, a fucking lawyer! She'd sit on her ass all day, looking over paperwork, gathering details to help some punk fight for his freedom rather they deserved it or not. Her life was supposed to be easy, simple.  
  
Her husband would have had no problem integrating himself into this world; a man of the army through and through. Their marriage may have been failing, held together only by his stubborn belief in “til death do us part,” but she'd never thought it would end the way it had; a bullet to the head protecting the only thing that had made her try to salvage their failing relationship. She'd wanted Shaun to grow up with both parents, even if it was only pretend.  
  
Now he wouldn't even have the chance to grow up...  
  
It was thoughts like this that made it impossible for her to return to Sanctuary Hills; she couldn't see what had become of the place she once called home.  
  
If it was anything like the world shes seen so far, crumbling, hostile and unforgiving, then she knew she made the right choice. Ghosts of memories had no place here; she needed to move forward.  
  
The idea of ending her life crossed her mind; she'd even dug a grave for herself, right next to the ones she'd made for her family, but as she'd pressed the old rusted blade to her throat...she couldn't bring herself to.

Everyone she'd ever known, ever cared about, was dead. Any one of them would kill to still be alive, who was she to throw that chance away?

Or maybe she's just a coward, too afraid to end her own life.

 _Stop!_ She shoves the thoughts away and focuses instead on the promise she'd made to herself, standing over the graves of the man she'd once loved and the child that love made. If that sick fuck was still alive, she'd do everything in her power to rip his last breath from his lungs herself. 

Drawing clarity from the anger, she moves forward; what she's looking for, she has no idea, but by this point, anything that wasn't trying to kill her would be a blessing in disguise. She dug into her pocket and pulled out the small packet of 10mm ammo and opened the box. Only 6 more bullets left.  
  
She's used firearms before, Nate had made sure of that, but all her targets had been stationary. Nothing like the creatures of the wasteland, bolting around at speeds she could barely keep up with.  
  
Truth be told, most of her ammo was wasted on failed attempts to defend herself against the giant, rat like creatures that seemed to litter the streets.  
  
How long could she go without a weapon?  
  
Shaking the thoughts from her head, she moves onward, east, toward the sea, hoping she could live off the aquatic life.  
  
That is, if it wasn't radiated to hell by now. The bomb hit somewhere southeast, she knew that much, so with some luck, the ocean would provide. It was a long shot, but by this point long shots were all she had.  
  
The sky's orange tint hints to sunset when she starts hearing voices, her heart swelling with hope that maybe she isn't alone. Rounding the corner of a dilapidated building, possibly once a bank, she sees a group of three men, all clad in dingy looking armor and torn cloth, sporting firearms over their shoulders.

The real prize is between them, where what looked like one of those naked rats is poached on a stick, roasting over a healthy looking fire. The last meal she'd had was over a day ago; an ancient looking cans of spam that she'd somehow made last for two days.  
  
Sure, she had one can left sitting in her pocket, but that would be digging into her emergency rations. Best to hold onto that.  
  
Shaking the water bottle tied to her hip, her frown deepened, less than a mouth full left. If she didn't get something in her soon...  
  
But as she looked once more at the group, a feeling of unease crept up her spine, followed by doubt. So far everything she'd run into had tried to kill her, what if these men were no different?  
  
As she began to creep back into the shadows of the ruined buildings, something grabbed her arm.  
  
“Hey! Look what I found creeping around!” A rough voice bellows out. His vice like grip on her arm stings. The other men look over, and despite the distance she could see the smiles spreading across their faces. “Been too long since we saw a nice piece off ass like you out here.” His other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her against him.  
  
“Let me go.” She's trying to sound tough, but her voice falters. The first people she's come across since leaving the vault are lowlife scum, the type she'd use to love seeing get locked behind bars.  
Except now there is no law to protect her. Only her own inexperienced hands, frozen by fear.  
  
“Look what we have here, a vault-dweller. Bet shes got some nice shit stashed around here.” One of the men say, looking her over with a gleam in his eye that all but reveals his sickening plans.

  
**(WARNING BELOW)**

  
  
A hand slides between her thighs, fingers touching places no stranger should touch. “Ain't got nothing useful on her.” The asshole behind her purrs into her ear, acting like he's not just feeling her up.

  
If he _was_ actually looking, he'd know that mere inches from his wondering hand, a small 10mm pistol is tucked neatly under her vest.

  
One of the other men, a short, lanky thing, in front of her steps forward, his hands already at the zipper of his pants. “I call first dibs on this one.” His crazed laugh makes her want to vomit.  
  
“Pfft, fuck no. I found her, she's mine.” His hand is back on her hip, possessively holding her against him. The hilt of her gun bounces lightly off his arm, and fear shoots through her, but he's too busy to notice it.  
  
“C'mon, you got first last time.”  
  
“I think the both of you need to shut the fuck up so we can get this show on the road.” The third man pushes the barrel of his shotgun hard against her throat, the pressure making it hard to breath. “What'ya say, sweetheart?” His sickeningly toothy smile gives her the edge she needs to push forward.  
  
Steadying her breathing, she pushes herself against the man behind her. If she could just get this sleazebag by himself, even for a second, she can make her move. “Please,” she hopes she's convincing, “don't let them hurt me.” The fear in her voice is all too real.  
  
The last man, who hadn't said a word up until now bellows out a howl of laughter. “She thinks Donny's gonna save 'er? Broad is dumber than she looks.”  
  
“Hey, hey, guys.” The man behind her drawls out, his grip loosening slightly on her arm. “You heard the lady, she knows whose got the biggest cock. No use trying to lie anymore.” His laugh vibrates through her body and her own anger bubbles up, and she has to fight to wind it down.

The more helpless she seems, the more likely these men are to let their guard down so she can escape.

  
“Just hurry the fuck up.” First-dibs guy yells. “Been too fucking long and I ain't about to wait around all day.”

A heavy arm slings around her shoulders as he starts to turn, leading her around the building.

 _As soon as you're out of view, shoot_. She rehearses the scene in her head a hundred times in the ten or so seconds it takes them to make it around the corner.  
  
Her hand is on the gun, but as she goes to unholster it, the mans slams her against the wall, his mouth already covering hers. The taste of booze and stale cigarettes is sickening, the rough texture of his lips almost makes her scream.

 

**(WARNING OVER)**

 

Her hand wraps tightly around the grip of her pistol, and before she has time to think of the repercussions, she points the barrel of the gun against the mans head, and pulls the trigger.  
  
Time slows, almost to a stop, and for a split second she swears his eyes bolt open in shock before hot, sticky blood spatters across her face.  
  
The weight of the corpse falls against her, soaking her with blood before slipping to the ground, a pool of red already streaming forth from where his head once was.  
  
Echoes of “What the fuck?!” shoot through the air, followed by the dull sound of running as the other men rush to investigate.  
  
She jumps over the lifeless body and bursts into a full on sprint, as fast as her weakened body will take her.  
  
“The bitch shot him! She fuckin' shot him!” Drunk man screams. A clap of thunder shoots off somewhere behind her as something zips past her left, and then another closely to her right and a grim realization slams into her.  
  
They're shooting at her!  
  
She zig-zags down the long road, trying her best to keep her movements unpredictable as more bullets pass her by.  
  
A sharp pain explodes in her shoulder as a bullet rips it's way through her flesh. Signs of the war were everywhere, people killing neighbors, friends accusing friends of terrorism, death was everywhere, but in her quiet little neighborhood they were sheltered from the worst of it. Nate had taught her basic survival skills, yes, but none of them involved anything remotely close to what was happening now.  
  
Shortly after another follows suit, this time digging it's way into the back of her thigh, causing her to stagger.  
  
_Run_!  
  
If they catch her, the thought of what they have in store seems worse than death.

A weird thought hits her. When she first came out of the pod, back in the vault, and saw Nates corpse decomposing on the floor, she welcomed the thought of death- a part of her still does, so why keep fighting?

But she knows the answer. The face of the man that took her family away flashes through her mind and a hatred so strong it makes her sick burns in her chest.

She _will_ make him pay. It doesn't matter what happens to her after, but until then, she'll keep fighting.  
  
_RUN!!!!_  
  
The word repeats itself over and over in her head, dulling the pain of being shot, cooling the fire in her lungs that burns at every breath.  
  
A third bullet buries itself in her lower calf, slowing her pace, but only for a second.  
  
Adrenaline has taken over and she runs. Even when the haze of bullets cease, and the angry shouts of those god awful men die; she runs.

 


	2. Over The River

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and critiques are all welcome! :)
> 
> Note: Using a simple "she" for now rather than a name, you'll see why.

  
It's been hours since she escaped those men, the moon already at it's peak in the night sky. When she'd ran, she didn't think about where she was going, only that she had to get as far away as possible, and judging by the sky, it seems she's gone south.  
  
Not too bad, considering she could have easily gotten turned around and headed back inland, away from her destination.  
  
The adrenaline that pushed her forward is gone, and without it, there's nothing to numb the sharp pain that pulses through her body at her entrance wounds. She knew without a doubt that the bullet that had dug it's way into her thigh was still there, she could feel it whenever she put too much pressure on her leg. Her shoulder she wasn't as sure about, but the bullet in her calf had definitely gone through, which was a relief. One less bullet she'd have to dig from her body.  
  
Tired had long since gave way to pure exhaustion, she probably looks like a zombie to anyone unfortunate enough to see her, feet dragging along the pavement, carrying her forward, about to give way at any moment.  
  
And yet, she keeps marching on.  
Something her her mother used to say when she was little popped into her head. Her mothers voice rings out crystal clear from a memory that seems only days old.  
  
“ _You've always got more to give. When shit hits the fan and you wanna give up, you'll always have just a little bit more fight in you. Keep pushing and either the pain will end or you'll drop dead and won't have to worry about it anymore.”_  
  
A soft chuckle pushes past her lips; 200 years later and her mother is still nagging her ass into the ground.  
  
Or maybe she's going crazy. Maybe the blood loss is finally getting to her, coupled with the exhaustion, the hunger and dehydration. Shit, she didn't even know which one was slowing her down most by this point. If she could fucking-  
  
She stops.  
  
Listens...  
  
Is that...?

 

The soft sounds of moving water can be heard somewhere in the near distance.  
  
Dragging herself a little bit further, she makes her way toward the sound, a new ray of hope starting to implant itself into her heart.  
  
As she moves forward a silhouette starts to take form; a bridge. Peering over the edge she sees the river, and while it's not what she was looking for, it's still more than she could have hoped for.  
  
She _knows_ where she's at. Somewhere further up would the Museum of Science, and just a little southeast would be the Institute of Tech!  
  
She's in Boston! She'd been here enough as a child to know these landmarks, even through the ruin of a nuclear fallout. If she was this close to Boston, then that had to mean the ocean was near, three, maybe four miles off!  
  
With this new information soaking it's way in, she almost feels lighter. Some of the pain lessens as she steps onto the bridge, determined make it there by sunrise. She's come too far to give up now.  
  
The bridge is in a lot worse shape then she first thought. Giant holes, made almost invisible in the dim light, litter the ground. One missed step and she'd be swept away with the current. Cars, probably abandoned during the bombing, sit along the way, untouched. It's almost eerie.  
  
She thinks, not for the first time, what all these people were doing when the bombs fell, had they made it to safety? What about immediately after, what was the world like for those still stuck on the outside?  
  
She stops, a section of the bridge is collapsed, completely submerged in the waters below.  
  
She could turn around, take one of the many other bridges that lead into Boston, but that would set her back by at least an hour, time she didn't have to spare.  
  
A ten foot gap stands between her and safety.

She jumps, a test to see if her bad leg could handle the impact. As she lands a burning pain shoots through her leg, but not completely intolerable.  
  
Deciding her leg can take the impact, she walks back a few feet, enough so she could build momentum for the jump.  
  
Taking one last deep breath, she takes an unsteady step forward, and then another. Within seconds her arms are pumping as her feet reach full speed.  
  
She's got one shot at this.  
  
The edge of the bridge is less than ten feet away, quickly approaching. Her heart is in her throat and she pushes all thought from her mind, afraid to second guess herself now.  
  
Luck is on her side for once as her good leg catches the edge of the bridge and she vaults forward with everything she's got.  
  
Time stills and for a second it feels like shes floating through the air.  
  
And falls short.  
  
Her arms scramble wildly, looking for something to grab onto. A silent scream hangs at her mouth as she feels the freezing rush of water lap at her feet.  
  
And then her hand makes contact, a searing pain rips through her arm where the bullet is, pulling a cry from her lips..  
  
Somehow her hand had managed to latch onto a support beam that was sticking out of the concrete. The lower half of her body, knees down, are submerged in the freezing water.  
  
Only a few more seconds and she would have been swept away.  
  
Her shoulder is still screaming in protest as she tightens her grip on the beam, and boosts herself up, grabbing hold of it with her other hand as well.  
  
Normally she'd have little to no problem shimmying up the pole, but right now she could hardly manage walking much less using actual strength.  
  
If she could get her foot up there though...  
  
Her hips begin to swing, left and right, building momentum as she swings herself, trying to get enough height to grab onto the edge of the bridge with her good leg. Gritting her teeth is just about all she can do to hold back the scream building in the throat. The pain in her shoulder is explosive, and she's now sure there's still a bullet lodged somewhere inside, she can feel it grinding against the bone as she swings.  
  
In one quick movement, she hoists herself up with her arms, just enough so that her leg connects with the edge and she's able to pull herself up and over.  
  
Now, safely on the other side, the strain finally hits her. Her eyes feel so incredibly heavy she could fall asleep right then and there.  
  
No...  
  
Food, she needs food.  
  
Reaching into her pocket, her hand finds the last remaining can of spam. She was planning to ration it out, try and make it last a couple days, but at this rate she didn't have a couple days. If she scavenged around, there wasn't a doubt in her mind she could find more food, but first she needed the energy to do so.  
  
A strong stench assaults her nostrils as she opens the can, and, while holding her breath, she quickly throws her head back and shoves the contents of the can in her mouth all at once.  
  
It's too much to chew. Covering her mouth with her hands, she tries to keep everything in, afraid to waste even a speck of her unpleasant meal. It's taste is ungodly awful, but as the contents hit her stomach, hunger wins out and she greedily swallows the rest, almost choking more than once.  
  
Swallowing the bit of watery gravy at the bottom of the can, she wipes her mouth, trying to ignore the sour taste on her tongue. She can't afford to throw up and lose what little water her body has left.

  
Ten or so minutes later and her shaking limbs begin to calm as the food starts to work its way through her system. She still feels weak, but it's like something took the edge off, and any release, no matter how small, is a win in her book.  
  
“HUMAN!” A pitched voice screams from behind her, causing her to whip her head around and what she sees sends a shiver through her body.  
  
Standing mere feet away, stands a giant almost-human looking man.  
  
Everything about this humanoid creature screams intimidation, from his unnatural height, to the muscles rippling over it's body, threatening to rip it's green, sickly looking skin.  
  
Is this how the radiation affected people?! Hell, could anyone even survive the radiation of a nuclear bomb?  
  
“STAND! AND FIGHT, HUMAN!” It screeches again, it's sentence clipped, as if struggling to speak.

  
Shakily, she gets to her feet and faces the man, noticing again just how much he actually towers over her. “W-who are you?” Her voice falters. Something about the way this guy carries himself...she doubts she'll be able to talk her way out of this one.  
  
“I. Am SUPER MUTANT!” It reaches behind it's back and pulls out a bat, nails protruding from every angle. “NOW DIE, HUMAN!” It roars and charges her, surprisingly fast for it's hulking size.  
  
With fumbling hands she pulls out her pistol and fires. One bullet flies past the super mutant- way off target. The second connects with his arm, but he doesn't even flinch. The third hit's it square in the knee, and her stomach drops.

It shouldn't be able to run! It should be on the ground, or fuck, slowed down at least, not charging at her full speed! What is this thing?!  
  
She spins on her heel and runs.  
  
Behind her the super mutant screams again, “SUFFER HUMAN! SUFFER AND DIIEE!” Her body is still screaming in pain, but if she stops for even a second this thing will be on her in a heart beat.  
  
Up ahead is an alleyway, blocked by an old, beat down car. Using the momentum, she hurdles herself over the hood of the car. And curses.  
  
At the end of the alleyway is a dead end.  
  
A loud crash makes her turn around, the super mutant jumped onto the car, it's left leg breaking through the glass where it's now stuck, but for how long is anyone's guess.  
  
Through the darkness she can make out the faint shape of a fire escape, it's ladder already lowered to the ground. As she gets closer to it, she stops. The whole thing is covered in rust, so bad in some areas that it's eating holes in the metal. If this thing crumbles...  
  
“HUMAN! I WILL WEAR YOUR GUTS! AROUND MY NECK!” The super mutant screams behind her as it frees it's leg from the window, glass shattering everywhere.  
  
Deciding she has no other options, she grabs onto the rickety old ladder and climbs, it's squeals in protest of her weight and the metal almost bends beneath her.  
  
As she reaches the top of the ladder the mutant is already below her, his giant hand gripping the bars. With only the pressure of one of it's over sized feet, the metal groans, and then breaks.  
  
Even it's smart enough to know if he tries to climb, it'll crumble under all the weight.  
  
“Human! Stay and FIGHT!” But she's already moving, working her way to the third flight of stairs, taking two steps at a time.  
  
A loud clap reverberates through the air and then the sound of metal on metal rings through her ears. Looking down, through the darkness she can make out the distinctive shape of a shotgun, dwarfed in size compared to it's giant hands.  
  
Another shot rings out, hitting the brick of the building, somewhere off to her left. She climbs the last flight of stairs and jumps the ledge of the building as the super mutant roars at it's lost prey, the furious scream echoing out into the night.  
  
Four stories high, she has a little better vantage point over the city. Panting heavily, she walks to the other side, careful not to get too close to the edge in case another one of those things are below her.  
  
Most of the buildings were decimated during the bombing, the taller structures being halved in size, giving her a somewhat clear view.  
  
It was there that she saw, off in the distance, a dim light. It looked almost like street lamps burning through the night.  
  
Everything that had happened to her this night alone had suggested that being alone is better, that company is dangerous, and yet she still felt that ache for companionship.  
  
The loud crunch of smashing wood brought her back to her current situation and she turns to see the same super mutant stepping through the now ruined door. It must have taken the stairs in the building to get to her!  
  
Fuck why hadn't she thought of that?!  
  
“Time to die, Human. No more running!!” It only took it a few steps to reach her, the bat raised over it's head. The muscles in it's arms flex as it swings downward, it's inhumane strength adding enough for to bash her skull right in, one hit.  
  
She opens her arms, and lets her body fall back, over the ledge. Embracing the weightless feeling that overtakes her, she plunges into the darkness.  
  
She had no other choice.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Her body slams hard into something, momentarily breaking her fall and knocking the breath right from her lungs. She wheezes as her body slides off whatever had stopped her fall, where she plunges the rest of the way, hitting the ground with her feet and tucking into a roll, landing ultimately on her back.

Fighting to regain her breath, all she can do is lay on her back, staring skyward at the telephone poll, used as some sort of bridge between the two buildings, that had broken her fall.  
  
She can taste the blood, smell it even. Where she was bleeding from has yet to be known.  
  
At first, she's afraid she might be paralyzed. Her body refuses to move, even her fingers won't so much as twitch. Her chest is burning and a bruise is already developing on her back, she can feel that much. After taking another minute to regain her breath, she tries again. None of her limbs are any worse for wear, but the bullet wounds are definitely taking their toll on her. She knew that if she didn't get moving soon, she'd be in trouble. The super mutant was probably on his way down the flight of stairs already. He'd be here at any moment.  
  
As she tries to sit up a sharp pain rips through her chest as a fit of coughs shake her body. She spits up more blood, it's metallic taste filling her mouth.

She finally manages to get on her feet, but the motion causes the pain in her chest to suddenly explode. She was no doctor, but if she had to guess, it was most likely a broken rib.  
  
A thin line of warm, sticky blood trickles down the side of her face, collecting the dirt and sweat on her skin. A possible concussion?  
  
She'd passed a hospital a few days ago, and decided it wasn't worth looking around in. That decision is probably currently her biggest regret, if only, if only.

It always comes down to "if only."

_Focus. You need to focus._

  
Closing her eyes to brace against the pain, she takes a shaky step, and then another, determined to get away before her assailant arrives.  
  
She heads in the direction she thinks she saw the light from, and as she gets closer, the distinct sounds of gun shots echo through the streets.  
  
All she can do is hope it's somewhere in the opposite direction, that her ears are picking up the sound wrong. It's doubtful, but morale's kind of low at the moment, so she lets herself hope.  
  
When she looks up from the ground, she notices a lit sign ahead, the orange and blue letters look almost welcoming.  
  
“Goodneighbor.” An arrow under the word points to the right.  
  
Making her way down the street where the sign directed, the gun fire slowly starts to build in volume. Any hope she may have built is gone.  
  
Whatever is going on, it's definitely coming from this 'Goodneighbor' place.

Her mind begins to think up a thousand different scenarios, most of them ending badly.  
It could be more of those super mutants. It could be more dirtbags looking for a victim.  
  
Hell, it could be a number of things that would spell out bad news for her, but if she didn't at least try, she knew, without a doubt, that she would be dead by sunrise.

As she goes further into the street, shouts can be heard, muffled by the concrete city. She can't make out what they're saying, or even if they're words. They could be the cries of battle for all she knew.  
  
Despite her fears, she keeps walking.  
  
Her other option was to sit and wait for death, and though neither were particularly appealing, there's no way in hell she's about to sit on her ass and just _die._ She jumped off a fucking forty foot building for Christs sake! With some jumbo sized lunatic chasing her, might she add.  
  
Dying was _not_ an option.  
  
The gunfire's starting to die down, only a few stray bullets being fired off here and there. In the new found almost silence, she can make out a few of the muffled shouts.

“I think I saw one bolt around the corner.” A woman calls out.  
  
“Well, what'ya tellin me for? Go look!” A man this time. “And for Gods sake take a weapon with ya!”  
Her body is trembling, the pain finally catching up. She tries to call out for help, but the effort is too much. Blood is still pouring down the side of her face, her hair sticking to her cheeks. Every breath sends out a fresh new wave of pain.  
  
She lands against the wall with a loud thud as her legs finally give out. Every nerve in her body lights up on impact, sending waves of pain crashing over her. A scream catches in her throat, a low moan escaping instead.  
  
The world around her is spinning, blurring together into a jumbled mess that her mind can't comprehend. She's so fucking tired, and hell, why shouldn't she sleep? After all the shit she just went through, she _deserves_ it. Her eyelids drift downward, stopping mid-way.  
  
Sleep is so close, but there's something she's forgetting...something really important. _  
  
_ “HUMAN!” Her heart stops.  
  
That voice...how?  
  
But 'how' doesn't matter. What matters is he's here, and she's going to die.  
  
“Puny human too weak to run. Easy prey is good!” With a crazed laugh, he pulls the bat from behind his back and breaks straight into a sprint, hurtling towards her.  
  
Can death really be that bad, though? Can it really be worse than all this? The super mutant is almost on top of her now, his bat already arching down to strike her.  
  
She should be afraid, begging for her life, crying, screaming, _anything_...instead, she smiles.  
  
_Maybe it'll be quick?_  
  
She closes her eyes and braces for an impact that never comes.  
  
Slowly, she opens her eyes, expecting to see the super mutant standing over her, smiling, enjoying the look of fear on his preys face.  
  
Instead, she sees the remnants of his head, large chunks of his upper skull missing, blown off by a bullet. His body is upright for a split second longer before it collapses in on itself, falling to a heap at her feet.  
  
Her own body does the same, releasing the tension she didn't even know she was holding.

Gentle arms wrap around her waist, and under her legs and shes lifted up. Her arms just fall to the side where they dangle in air, too exhausted to hold them up.  
  
Why couldn't people just leave her alone? She's had enough! She just wanted to sleep for fucks sake!  
  
She tries to wiggle free, she wants to scream, to at least try and put up a fight, but her body just doesn't have the energy. The arms around her tighten ever so slightly, cradling her against a warm chest.  
  
“It's okay, sister, I got ya. Just relax.” It's the first friendly voice she's heard in over 200 years.

 

* * *  
  
“For the last time, Farh, I wasn't about to leave someone for dead.”

  
“All I'm saying is now isn't the best time to take in another charity case, especially one that can't even help us fight.”  
  
“We're not takin' no one in, soon as shes good to move, I'm sendin' her off with the next caravan to Diamond City. Now drop it.”  
  
“Hey, you're the one in charge, not me. If that's your choice, then that's your choice.” Light footsteps fade away as she leaves the room.  
  
The more aware she becomes, the more she notices the sharp pricks on her leg, and as consciousness takes over, the pricks turn into sharp pains.  
  
When she finally manages to pry her eyes open, her heart freezes. At the bottom of her bed is some deformed creature, it's ruined hands grabbing tightly onto her leg. A scream builds in her throat and she rips her leg out of it's grip, and kicks, aiming for the beasts face.  
  
Without any effort he catches her leg, effectively blocking her attack.  
  
“Dammit, I was almost done with those. Hold still.” His voice. He's the one that saved her.  
  
“Who are you?!” She yanks her leg away. “And stay back!” Her back is against the headboard of the bed now, she's got no more room to move.  
  
“Hey, c'mon. That any way to talk to the man that saved your ass?”  
  
“Y-your face- it...I'm sorry.” She can feel her face redden at the guilt. He was probably in some sort of accident, it looks almost like his skin was burned off, melted even. In the middle of his face where the cartilage of his nose is supposed to be, there's nothing, just the hole of his nasal cavity.  
  
The cocky half grin on his cracked lips widens into amusement. “What, never seen a ghoul before?”  
  
“A what?” Ghoul? Was this another one of those freakish, almost humans, like the super mutants?  
  
His amused smile falls, replaced by confusion.  
  
“C'mon sister. Not everyone's seen a ghoul, but everyone damn well knows what they are. Tell me you're pullin' my leg?”  
  
She shakes her head.  
  
“Wow. They keep you on short leashes in that vault o' yours, don't they?”  
  
Her fists clench at the mention of the vault. “You have no idea.” She doesn't feel like getting into all that right now.  
  
“By the looks of it, guessing you're not a fan either?” He pauses, waiting for her to elaborate. When she doesn't he continues. “Anyway, I used to have a set of smooth skin on me, just like you not all that long ago.” He motions to your leg and you hesitantly stretch it out, so he can finish your stitches. “See, when some poor sap sucks up too much radiation, this is what you get. Not sure why, but only some folks turn ghoul; most just die. Might be missing a few key parts,” he scrunches his face, wiggling the remainder of his noise, “ but the perks ain't bad. Whats not to love about immortality, right?”  
  
“Wait, you're immortal? As in you can't die?”  
  
“Well, kinda. A bullet to the head'll do me in just like any other guy, but ghouls...we age really slow. Maybe all the rads? Who knows...” He pushes the tip of the needle through the hole in her leg, and she winces. “Take Daisy, for example. You want some good stories? She'll blow your mind, almost three-hundred years old but doesn't look a day over thirty.”  
  
Almost three-hundred...that means she's from before the war. “Are there a lot of...ghouls that old?”  
  
“A few.”

“How old are you?” She blurts out the question, not stopping to think if it might be rude or not.

He looks at her for a second and then laughs. “Wouldn't you like to know.” He pulls the needle from her skin, sticks it back in. “Ain't been a ghoul long, 'bout four...maybe five years? As for age...ahh, no use dwelling on numbers when you've got centuries, ya feel me?”  
  
She studies his face, trying to piece together how he must of looked while he was human, he couldn't have been much older than her. Even through the rot of his radiated skin, she can see the sharp angles of his bone structure, the strong curve of his jaw. Even the youth in his blackened eyes is unmistakable.  
  
“Wouldn't stare too long, might fall in love.” The cocky grin is back as he clips the string of her stitches and ties it off.

“ Sorry, I...uh-” Would it be better to admit the truth, or let him think she was just gawking?  
  
“Relax sister, I'm pulling your leg. But on a more serious note, better get it outta your system now. Anyone out there catches you starin' like that, you're gonna have some trouble on your hands.”

“I'm...sorry.” She lets out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. “It's been one shit storm after another since I-” she almost said 'unfroze,' “...since I left the vault. First those creeps, then that super mutant, now this. And that was just today. Too much shit going on...”  
  
“Sounds like you had one hell of a trip over. Not the good kind either.” He laughs, and maybe it's finally having a friendly face around, but it actually draws a smile to her lips.

She realizes just how much she needed another human to talk to. This man took her in, treated her wounds, and hasn't even asked for repayment. What's she got to lose by putting a little trust in the guy? The least she can do is give him a story- rather or not he believes it is up to him.  
  
She tells him about the vault, about her husband, her son, how long she's been frozen in time. She tells him about those god awful men, who he claims to be raiders. His eyes widened when she tells him about her run in with the super mutant, when she jumped from the four story building.

“I saw the light from the town and by the time I heard the gun shots, I was too weak to turn around. Hell, I'd be dead if you didn't save my ass... I was starting to think this world was nothing but selfish pricks.”  
  
“You're not wrong there, sister. Most folks in the commonwealth _are_ out for themselves. Not many have the luxury to worry about others.” He stands and pulls an inhaler out of his pocket, holds it up to his mouth and takes a long drag from the container. “You, uh... indulge?” He offers it out to her.  
  
“I don't have asthma?” It comes out as a question, confusion written on her face.  
  
“Asthma?” He chokes on his own laughter. “Sister, you got a lot to learn, but for now, get some rest. Faster you heal, the faster we can get you somewhere safer.” He stands to leave, but stops at the door.

“'Fore I forget, names John Hancock; mayor of this fine, if not morally corrupt, town. Goodneighbor is for the people, of the people.” The way he says it, with a sense of pride, almost makes her smile. She doesn't know much, if anything, about the Commonwealth, or what it has to offer, but the tone in his voice...well, it may not be pretty, but Goodneighbor must have it's appeal for him to speak that highly of it.  
  
He's still looking at her, and she realizes he's waiting for her name.  
  
“Oh, my name is Nor-” She chokes on the word.  
  
She's not Nora. Not anymore.  
  
Nora was a lawyer, a housewife. She had a husband, a son, friends and family of her own... all of which were now gone.  
  
The memories attached to that name carried too much weight. If she plans to make any sort of life for herself in this new, unforgiving world, some things have to change...

Her name, she decides, is as good enough a place to start as any.

  
“The name's Avery.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter.
> 
> And thanks for the kudos! :) I appreciate it, and I'd love to hear some feedback as well.
> 
> Verbal motivation, hell yeah!

It's been four days since she's stumbled into Goodneighbor, covered in blood and on the verge of death. Her wounds are still far from healed, but whatever medicines Hancock had put into her body, they were definitely doing their jobs.  
  
She slowly sits herself up, and winces at the sharp pain that shoots through her chest. Moving is still painful, yeah, but nowhere near the unbearable level it had been only two days before. She glances over at the nightstand next to the bed, where the giant needle...the- shit, what did Hancock call them?

Stam- no, the...sti...Stimpak! She nods to herself, trying to commit the word to memory. That little thing has done more for her in the last two days than a month in a fully staffed hospital would have.  
  
It was amazing both how far, and how low civilization has come in the last two hundred years. They've created this thing, the stimpak, that boosts the bodies natural healing abilities, something the people of her time would have killed for, yet on the same note, they've resorted to such a barbaric way of living.

And yet that doesn't surprise her. She'd been a lawyer, she seen first hand the evils humans are capable of. Actually, the more she thought about it, the more similarities she sees.  
  
The people of the commonwealth, and the rest of the world she had to guess, live exactly how the people of her time would have, had the law not been involved.  
  
Hell, maybe this was an even better system than the one she was used to- she'd seen far too may guilty men walk away free because of the flaws of the legal system.  
  
She lays back onto the bed, pulls the musty old blanket over her head and groans. This isn't the first time she's gone through this train of thought.

Thinking was all she had, stuck in the room.

If she had to spend one more day on this hard, springy mattress, she'd snap. In the four days she'd been here she's only seen Hancock two short times, and other than him no one came to see her.

There wasn't even anything to keep her busy other than a radio that played the same handful of outdated songs over and over. Television had never been a necessity for her, but god damn, what she wouldn't give for a TV right now. A book maybe? Something.  
  
She pulls herself upright again, and slowly lowers her legs over the side of the bed. He'd told her to stay put and not try walking until she heals better, but that didn't stop her. The last time she tried to stand the muscles in her legs had light up with pain and she'd only made it three steps before collapsing on the floor.

That was two days ago.  
  
It's not like her body would heal that much in such a short amount of time, but maybe a little rest was all she needed.  
  
Using the table to stabilize herself, she slowly stands up, the bullet holes in her legs throbbing at the strain. Her broken rib protests as well, but she straightens her body, her hand hovering over the table in case she collapses.  
  
Painful; yes, but tolerable.  
  
She takes a hesitant step, careful not to put too much weight on her bad leg.  
  
And another.  
  
And a few more.  
  
She crosses the room with little problem, then limps back to the bed. Mild pain pulses through her leg, but no permanent damage that she can see.  
  
She makes her way over to the single window, eager to finally get a good view of the town.

Holy shit.

Hancock wasn't kidding, one of the first things she notices are the people- all with the same darkened, rotted skin as the mayor. All ghouls.

It's rude to think, she knows it, but it's like some sort of zombie horror movie outside. Even the small handful of normal people look like the type she normally tried to avoid.

And each and every one of them hand a weapon of some sort in their possession.  
  
Nothing about her situation is funny, but that doesn't stop the laugh that bubbles up. How the hell did she manage to get herself here?  
  
Her eyes dart back to the hotel, where a red frock catches her attention. Thank god for his... _unique_ choice of clothing, she's not sure she'd be able to tell him apart from the rest of the ghoulified populace if she couldn't rely on that faded red coat and tricorne hat. They all look so similar...  
  
He's talking to two men, a tall guy donned all in leather who looks bored and a man clothed in a ratty tanned suit. Whatever Hancock and Suit Guy are talking about, it seems pretty heated. Suits hands are flashing around, gesturing at himself, then to Hancock, and finally somewhere off in the distance.  
  
Although he's nowhere near as animated as Suit Guy, the tension is all but obvious in the way Hancock stands. He removes his hand from his hip and jabs a finger in Suits face, saying something she can't make out. Whatever he says, it must get to Suit, because he takes a step back and brings his own hands up in defense.

Leather Guy tilts his head in her direction, his eyes immediately finding her own. Her breath hitches in her throat at the surprise of being caught, but instead of notifying either of the two men, a sly smile snakes it's way across his lips as he twitches his head in a silent greeting before turning back to dully listen to Hancock and Suit Guy argue.  
  
She steps away from the window takes a deep breath in attempt to calm herself. She'd been planning to take a look around town when she was finally able to stand, but after actually seeing how run down and shady it looked, she wasn't so sure.  
  
There's little to no doubt that Leather Man would tell Hancock about her being up and moving, and after all he's done for her, a complete stranger, it felt wrong to judge Goodneighbor so harshly.  
  
Since walking up in the vault, she'd probably hiked a good 20 miles across the Commonwealth. So far, everything had looked like shit, so why should she expect anything different here? For all she knew, her old world views of 'run down' could be Beverly Hills by today's standards.  
  
If she has any hope of conforming to this world, she needs to keep an open mind. So far she's seen no reason not to trust these people, so until given a reason, that's what she'll do.  
  
She limps to the doorway and peeks into the empty hallway. At the end is a room and what looks to be a staircase in the middle. Logic says she'll probably have to get past the stairs to get outside, and the realization makes her groan. In the shape she's in, she's more likely to fall down the stairs than she is to walk down them.  
  
Using the wall for support she makes her way down the hallway at a painfully slow pace when a man steps out from the corner, gun pointed directly at her.  
  
Her hands shoot up in surrender. “Oh, hi! I'm uh-”

“I know who you are.” His rotted skin makes it hard to judge his expression. “What I wanna know is where you're going.”  
  
“I was going to see Hancock. Getting kind of stuffy in that room.” When he doesn't reply, a pang of fear sets in her stomach. “Am I...am I not allowed to leave?”  
  
“Nah, nothing like that. Hancock told me ta keep on eye on ya. Lot easier to do when you're in eye sight, ya hear?” He lowers his gun to his side.  
  
“I'm just going right outside. I need to speak to Hancock.”  
  
“I'll call him up.”

“I'd like to stretch out my legs.”

“Walk in the hall,” the hint of annoyance is obvious even through the gruffness of his voice.  
  
“What? I don't want to-” she catches the edge in her voice and stops herself.  
  
Breath in.  
  
Breath out.  
  
“I'd really like to go see Hancock myself.” When he doesn't say anything, she adds, “Please?”  
  
He stares at her for another minute before stepping aside and leaning against the wall. “Alright.”  
  
“Really? I can just go?” For someone who was putting up such a fight for her to stay a moment ago to just roll over and let her go surprised Avery. That easily?  
  
He rolls his shoulders and pulls his worn fedora hat over his eyes. “Not my problem; that's the beauty of it. See, here in Goodneighbor we take care of our own problems. You? Long as you don't cause any trouble, you're not my problem. You'd do best to remember that.”  
  
She hurries off before he changes his mind but slows as she comes to the spiral staircase leading to the lower levels of the building. They're steep, but at least the railing seems sturdy.

 


	5. Chapter 5

It took what felt like a life time for her to make it down the stairs. At the bottom two more men dressed similar to the one upstairs are having a heated argument.  
  
“I'm tellin' ya, I shot that damn thing square in the head. Dropped dead in a heartbeat.”  
  
The other man laughed. “Get outta here with that shit. I was there, you just about pissed yourself and ran, ain't anyone seen you for the rest of the fight.”  
  
“You need to get your eyes checked.” The first guy mumbles. “Shot that mutated bastard clean through the head.”  
  
Avery opens the door to the outside as quietly as she can.  
  
“I don't even know why Hancock let you in the Watch in the first place. Waste of a gun, if you ask me.”  
  
She slips outside closes the door behind her.  
  
Outside she quickly scopes out Hancock across the street, still in the same spot, casually puffing what she now knows to be Jet. Leathers takes the canister for himself, brings it to his lips and takes a long inhale.  
  
Suit Guy is gone.  
  
She gimps her way over to the two men and it's not until half way there that Hancock finally notices.  
  
“Look who finally crawled outta bed. You look like death, sister.” The lilt of his voice is joking.  
  
“I can't vouch for my looks, but I feel pretty damn good. Nice to be out of that room.” A thin cloud of smoke wisps around her body as Leathers exhales the jet.  
  
It smells like chemically infused shit. The harsh smoke makes her eyes water and she coughs to clear her throat.  
  
“Whats a matter, Red, not a fan?” Leathers raspy voice has a hint of amusement behind it.  
  
“Jesus, no, what's in that shit?” She doesn't bother correcting him on her name. Ever since she was a child people would comment on the red hue of her hair, it's old news.  
  
“Better off not knowing. Just enjoy the buzz.” He laughs.  
  
“Finn, lay off.” Hancock brushes the man named Finn aside, and she finds herself grateful.  
  
“C'mon Hancock, look at the poor girl gimping around. It's for uh...” he rolls his eyes, searching for the words then smiles when he finds them “...pain management.”  
  
“You n' I both know that's bullshit,” the Mayor turns toward Avery, and part of her still wants to recoil or at the very least look away.  
  
She meets his gaze and tries for a friendly smile.  
  
“By the way, good timing, Sister. Something I need to talk to you about, was gonna head up later, but since you're here, you might as well tag along.”  
  
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Hancock hadn't posed it as a question, but she answers it as such anyway. “Real quick, though, where are we going?”

“Was about to go grab a drink”

“This early in the morning?” It had to only be about 9am...

“It's a little after two. You sleep like a rock, you know that?”

“I've heard.” It's not a lie, Nate always used to bitch to her about always having to wake up with Shau-

Avery forces the thought from her head. “Yeah... sure, a drink sounds good.”

  
Hancock turns back to Finn and nods his goodbye before moving forward. Without any idea where she's suppose to go, she mumbles a quick goodbye then follows suit.  
  
As they round the corner she notices an underhand in the front of the building where she's been staying. Above it is a sign that reads: The Third Rail.  
  
When Hancock opens the doors the soft scent of cigarettes and booze waft out, and the smooth sound of jazz bubbles out along with it. Not her type of music, but a nice change from the repeating music of the radio.  
  
A man dressed in a tuxedo is leaning against the wall at the top of a staircase. He straightens when they enter and greats them with a quick hello and a smile as they pass.  
  
When they make it down the stairs the hint of cigarettes and alcohol go from subtle to downright overwhelming; it's good to know that at least the bar scene hasn't changed over the last two-hundred years.  
  
As they make their way to the counter a few patrons glance up from their bottles to stare at her, and one, a ghoulified woman in a patchy tan suit, smiles and nods a silent greeting as she passes.  
  
“Ay, if it isn't Mayor Hancock,” a Mister Handy with a thick accent is behind the counter. “ Oh, an' looks like Miss- uh...whoever ya 're is up an' about too!”  
  
“Avery. Good to meet you.”  
  
“Pleasure's mine, Deary. I assume the usual Mayor?”  
  
“You know me too well, Chuck.”  
  
“ An' what can I get for the lady? Got a big range o' beer; it all tastes like piss, but it's the finest piss in the Commonwealth!”  
  
“Uh, whatever tastes less pissy, I guess. Preferably not lite, either.”  
  
“Comin' right up.” The Mister Handy grabs two glasses and sets to work. Whatever Hancocks 'usual' is, it looks pretty complicated judging by all the different bottles being poured into the cup.  
  
“I gotta say, I didn't think you'd be movin' around this soon. Anyone that close to death and already walking around in just four days? You got my respect, Sister.”  
  
“That bad?” She knew at the time her injuries were bad, but half dead? Hancock laughs, a raspy chuckle of disbelieve.  
  
“I've been close quite a few times in my life, let me tell you, but never _that_ close. Those Raiders did a number on you and that Super Mutant almost finished the job. You got here any later and you'da been dead for sure. Almost didn't even bother trying when I found ya, you were that far gone.”  
  
“That's right,” she recalls the night she stumbled into town, shot down and beaten. “Couldn't really see straight but your voice...I remember that.”  
  
“Probably a good thing you couldn't see. Lot of folks go their whole lives without seeing a Ghoul, but not even knowing they exist? Must be some scary shit. You got me good, though,” he rubs his jaw where she'd kicked him when she first woke up.  
  
“Sorry,” she looks away and bites her lip, unsure how to properly apologize. “Uhm, if it makes you feel any better, I probably would have done the same regardless. So far everything I've run into has tried to kill me, so...I guess you could say trust issues?” She laughs awkwardly at her poor attempt at a joke.  
  
The soft clink of cups hitting the table draws their attention, along with Charlies thick accent. “That'll be seven caps.”  
  
“Seven for the both of em?” Hancock sounds confused.  
  
“Mayors discount; new sale I'm trying out.”  
  
“I ain't complainin, just don't come up sayin I owe ya'.” Hancock tosses seven bottle caps his way takes a healthy sip of his drink.  
  
“Pleasure doin' business with ya, Mayor Hancock.” Charlie picks up the caps and heads to the other side of the counter where an obviously drunk man orders a refill.  
  
“Wait, were those bottle caps you paid him with? And he doesn't care?” She asks.  
  
A look of confusion crosses over Hancocks face before he understands.  
  
“Oh yeah, you used that paper shit before the war. Hate to tell you, Doll, but that's pretty much useless. We use caps now: easier to lug around, more durable, you get the idea.”  
  
“I figured things would change, but thats...kind of weird, to be honest. I mean, hell, I used to collect those when I was a kid, probably had a couple thousand before my Mother got tired of stepping on them and threw 'em all out.”  
  
“Imagine if I never stopped collecting, shit...I'd be pretty well set.” She can't help but to snort out a laugh the thought.  
  
“No use dwelling on the past, Doll. Trust me on that.”  
  
“Ain't that the truth. But still, the shit you throw out that you don't think you'll ever need,” Avery shakes her head and picks up her drink, takes a cautious sip, and holy shit, Charlie wasn't kidding when he said it tastes like piss; whoa.  
  
“You get used to it after a while. It all has that skunky after taste.” He takes another sip from his glass.  
  
“Whats that you have?”  
  
“Special mix. Reserved only for yours truly.” He quirks up a brow and grins.

“Can I...?” He seems taken back for a second before shrugging his shoulders and pushing the glass over to her.  
  
“Knock yourself out, just don't chug it.”  
  
As she brings the glass to her lips the strong stench burns her nostrils. Taking a deep breath, she takes a healthy mouthful that burns on it's way down. The alcohol is strong with a surprisingly fruity aftertaste, something she could see herself enjoying on a night out.  
  
A warm glow burns in her stomach as a familiar tingle floats through her head.  
  
“Wow, you weren't kidding." Avery clears her throat, trying to brush past the burn. "Good shit though, what are the chances I can get one for myself sometime down the road?”  
  
He takes his drink back then straightens up on the stool. “Thats actually what I wanted to talk about- kind of.” The way he says it, there's a difference in his tone, something more serious.  
  
“Here's the deal, normally Goodneighbor's open to everyone, every addict, ex-mercenary, and scavenger alike; we like to keep it diverse, you feel me? But with all this constant fighting with the Super Mutants, things ain't exactly been safe around here. We lost a lot of good people; some of them left on their own, others weren't so lucky.” He downs the last of his drink and pushes the glass to the front of the counter. “Point is, we're short on hands, but I ain't about to let someonee inexperienced- no offense- fight a fight that ain't hers. I got a caravan heading towards a settlement a ways from here, near Diamond City, for supplies in four days. You're gonna go with them.”  
  
“What if I want to stay here?” She's surprised by her own words, and also a bit guilty. Unless they need a lawyer, her skills won't prove too useful...

She didn't want to piggyback off the town any more than she had to, but still...for some unknown reason, she desperately wants to stay.

A memory, back from her college days, when she took a course in psychology, and one of the lessons her professor talked about was people who've gone through traumatic experiences. It said that they tend to 'imprint' on the first friendly face they see, which is why they usually try to have a therapist talk to the victims first, so the person trusts the therapist.  
  
Is that whats happening? Avery has nothing to lose in this world, nothing to hold her here, and yet the idea of leaving is terrifying. Why else would she want to stay in a place like this?

But reasons don't matter.  
  
“My husband was in the military, he taught me some basics, so I'm sure you can find a way to use me. You said it yourself, you're short handed.” She's trying to sound casual, but there's a certain edge on her voice that she's hopes he can't hear.  
  
“Listen, I wish it were up for debate, but you've been through enough,” his voice takes on a more absolute tone. “Besides, I ain't about to be responsible for another innocent person getting hurt, and a woman no doubt. If in a few months things calm down I'll send someone for you, but trust me when I say Goodneighbor isn't the place someone like you wants to be. You'll see that when you get to this settlement.”  
  
“So I don't get a choice in this?”  
  
“Normally, yeah, you would, but like I said, I don't want your blood on my hands if things go south, and we barely have the supplies we need as is. Guns and ammunition aren't exactly easy to get around here.”  
  
That's not something she could argue about.  
  
“I understand.” She let out a sigh. “I'm trusting you not to send me to some shit hole though.”  
  
“Wouldn't dream of it, Sister. ”  
  
“You'd be-” She's cut off by sudden shouting.  
  
“Hancock! Get your ass... uh, I mean come here! Got something you'll want to see.”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

The music stops and a silence falls over the bar as all conversation ceases.  
Hancock turns toward the man at the base of the stairs and groans, obviously not ready to deal with whatever he has to say.

“Dammit MacCready, whatever it is, it better be good.”

“We found one of the Super Mutant bases over at Trinity tower; the place was swarming with them.”

“And? Did ya blow em all to hell?”

“Most of them, few got away, but that's not the point. We got one alive.”

Hancock slides off the stool, nearly knocking it over and strides over to the other man. They exchange a few words before the both of them rush up the stairs and the sound of chairs scraping off the hard floor fill the room as everyone stands to follow, eager to see the scene play out.

  
Avery stands too, unsure of what else to do. A large part of her wants nothing to do with another super mutant, but in the end her curiosity wins out and she follows the crowd up the stairs, into the streets of Goodneighbor. They lead her to the entrance of the town where more people are already gathered. She pushes her way through the rowdy mass where Hancock stands over a super mutant, whose on the ground bound with chains.

“Put a bullet in the fucker!” someone yells and echoes of agreement fill the air.  
  
“Gut him alive!” Another man screams, followed by more cheers.

The Mayor turns around to the people of Goodneighbor and puts a hand up, signaling for them to quiet down.  
  
The gesture falls on blind eyes, everyone's too worked up to notice and the shouts continue when a bottle flies out of the crowd, smashing upon impact with the super mutants head and more cheers erupt.  
  
Looking around she notices a few of the townspeople have their weapons out, ranging from baseball bats to automatic guns. Others are quietly looking onward while some stay in the back; fear of the green humanoid in front of them evident in their eyes.

Hancock scan the mass before he pulls out a pistol and fires a shot into the sky, catching the attention of the rowdy crowd.

As they shouts die down to whispers he finally speaks, his voice low, but powerful.  
  
“Next moron stupid enough to scream or throw shit gets a bullet through his skull. Now quiet down.” Even the whispers stop and a strange silence settles over the town. Satisfied at the results, Hancock turns his attention back to the prisoner.  
  
“I work my ass off to keep this place up and running, you feel me?” He calmly walks over to the super mutant so he's standing right over him. “Things were going pretty smooth between us up until recently, but now you and your kind are fuckin up my town, care to tell me why that is?”

The mutant lets out a loud growl and struggles against his restrains, but they hold tight. Hancock waits for him to settle before asking again.

“Brothers tired of humans. Tired of sharing.”

“Tell us where the others are camped.” The other man, MacCready, demands.

“Strong doesn't know. Brothers locked Strong in cage.” Strong. They have names?

It shouldn't surprise her. Hancock had told her about the super mutants, that they used to be human at some point. It almost made her feel bad for them...

Almost.  
  
Hancock stands up and looks over to MacCready who nods in confirmation.

“We found him at the top of the tower locked up. Kept talking about the 'milk of human kindness,' or some other junk.”

“Milk of human kindness secret to human power. Strong drink milk to become stronger, help brothers kill humans!” The super mutant growls.

“I'll give you milk of human kindness,” the man next to her shouts, pointing the barrel of his shotgun at the mutant.  
  
“God dammit Zeek, what did I just say?” Hancock gestures with the gun in his hand for the man to stand back.

“No, this is bullshit, Hancock, put a bullet through that things head and get it over with!” He takes a step forward, still aiming his gun at the super mutant.

Without missing a beat, Fahrenheit closes the gap between them and slams the butt of her gun into Zeeks face, knocking him out cold.

He falls into Avery, nearly knocking her over before landing on the ground with a dull thud.  
  
“Listen!” Hancocks voice is louder now, more demanding. “We're gonna do things, and we're gonna do them my way. Sit down, shut up, and stay put.” He turns back to the super mutant, calmly pointing his gun against the mutants head.

“Last chance, buddy. You tell me and I let you walk outta here, otherwise...” she can hear the soft click of the safety being disengaged, she's so close. “C'mon, one freak to another.”

“Super mutants nothing like zombie scum! Strong no take orders from-”

The loud crack of a gunshot rips through the air.  
  
The bullet hits it's mark and buries itself deep into the skull of the super mutant, who falls to the side.

A pool of blood is already forming around the still twitching, still living semi human and the sight sends a chill through her body.

A gunshot at point blank isn't enough to kill these things?

Another shot rings out as Hancock fires again, sending another bullet into the side of it's skull and the twitching stop.

A third follows, just for good measure.

Seconds of silence pass before a loud cheer erupts over the crowd.

Avery can't take her eyes from the giant puddle of blood pooling around the corpse on the ground. She's never been squeamish, still isn't, but witnessing, first hand, the sheer amount of abuse these things can take- it's unbelievable!

A familiar raspy voice in her ear brings her attention back to reality. Hancock is next to her, whispering something to her that takes a minute to understand.

“Meet me up in my office.” And before she has time to ask where that is, he's gone, disappearing somewhere in the bustling horde of people.

It takes her a minute to move, to shake herself out of her own head. _Breath._ She tries to reason with herself. _It's a lot for anyone to take it, just breath. This is life now._

She shakes her head, a poor attempt to clear her mind before pushing her way through the lingering crowd and into the building to find Hancock.

Inside are a few men of the Watch talking about the scene that just played out only minutes ago.

“Did you see that thing? Took a shot right to the head and still kickin, you really think we got a chance against that?”

“We don't got a choice but to win. I'm not too keen on the alternative.”

“The alternative? There is no alternative! We're fucked.”

She blocks the rest out, choosing to focus instead on climbing the stairs. Three steps up and she pauses...

Where is Hancocks office, anyway?

Thinking back to this morning she didn't really pay attention to anything other than how to get out of the building.

“You gonna stand there blocking the way, or you gonna move?” A mans voice surprises her. Avery turns around and sees the man from earlier, MacCready, standing at the base of the stairs.

“I, uh- shit, sorry.” She moves to the side so he can pass.

“Yeah.” He moves past her, the flap of his coat brushing her leg as he does.

“Hey, wait. Do you know where Hancocks office is? I'm suppose to meet him but I don't know where it is. Hell, I'm not even sure if I'm in the right building.”

He stops and sighs after a moment, not even bothering to cover the annoyance he must feel at having to help the gimpy chick.

“I'm heading there myself. This way.” He starts back up the stairs at a brisk pace and she has to struggle to keep up with her bad leg.

At the top of the stair case they make a right and go through double doors into a well furnished room. Canisters of Jet and syringes litter the tables along with bowls of food.

In the middle of the room sits Hancock, exhaling a plume of smoke.

“MacCready, didn't expect to see your mug this evening.”

“Don't give me that sh- crap. You sent me over there to _scout_. Not to clear out a freaking infestation of those super mutant freaks! I almost got myself killed back there, plus I brought you one of those things. I'm adding two hundred caps to your bill.”

“You and I both know I didn't make you go in, that was alllll you.” There's a tone of amusement in his voice.

“Thats a load of...I know you Hancock, you'd never let me hear the end of it if I came back and told you I didn't take care of it. Two-hundred caps.”

“Seventy-five.”

“Seventy..what?! Like hell, Two-hundred.”

“That super mutant didn't tell me shit, one-hundred. Take it or leave it.” Is she imagining things or is Hancock toying with the man?

“Fine.” MacCready huffs before turning on his heel and rushing out the door.

“Nice doing business with ya, RJ!” Hancock yells after him, laughing when he's out of ear shot. “That temper of his is gonna get him in all the wrong kind o' trouble one day.”

“Uhm, you wanted me to meet you here?” She's starting to think she might have misheard him.

“Yeah. First things first, I wanted to apologize. It's gotta be rough takin' all this in in such a short time, so I'm sorry you had to see that, but it goes back to my original point. You can't stay here.”

Avery sighs. She can't argue; no matter how much self defense Nate may have taught her, nothing would be enough to defend herself against something that can survive a bullet to the head. She looks over to the man relaxing on the couch and can't help but to question him.

Why should he care? Most people would welcome the extra hands, even if they were just a meat shield to buy the better fighters more time. Skill wouldn't matter as long as it's an able body, and yet here he is going as far as sending her halfway across the state so she'll be safe.

The funny thing is, if her first encounter with him would have been the spectacle she just witnessed, her opinion of him would be different entirely. In combination with his appearance and watching him take a life so casually, she'd have labeled him a monster.

But...knowing what she knows, she can't help but to respect him. Hancock is the kind of man that sticks to what he believes and gets shit done. His methods might be rough, but looking around, at the people that live in his town and the way the world works, mercy is starting to sound like a risky luxury.  
  
“I get it, I do, I just...still think I could be useful. I could scout for supplies, or...something, I don't know.”

“Wish it were that easy, sister. I'd love to keep you around, it's the neighborly thing to do, but one wrong move this late in the game and there won't be a neighborhood to protect. You feel me?”

Avery signs, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “I feel you, Hancock...”

At least she tried.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strong disliked that.


	7. Chapter 7

Avery's pleasantly surprised when she stands from the bed to find that her leg almost doesn't hurt, which is another big improvement since yesterday. She's already changed the bandages and, at least to her, it looks like the holes have shrunk some, and even better, no signs of infection either.

Still, she reaches for the stimpak on the tabletop and injects it into her leg, just like Hancock showed her. He'd given it to her last night and told her to try and make it last a few days since the town was running low, and she finds herself once again grateful for how much he's done.

“Hows that stimpak doing for ya?” Hancock is standing between the door frame, which annoyingly enough doesn't have a door. Most of the rooms don't, actually.

“Better than any doctors ever done, that's for sure.”

“Glad to hear.”

“Uh, hey, any chance I can get you to help me out?”

“Maybe. What'ya need?”

“The wound on my back, I can't see it and I think it might be getting infected. Any chance you could..?”

“Had me worried for a second.” He motions for her to turn around and she does. “Heard a lot of weird shit that started with those words.”

“Kind of curious now.”

“No,” he snorts, “ ya really aren't.”

“Coming from you? I guess I'll trust you, then.” a grin tugs at her lips. It's nice, having someone to talk to...she's going to miss it.

His heavy foot steps echo in the room as he comes up behind her and reaches around to lightly flick the zipper of her vault suit.

“I'm gonna need you to pull that down.” His voice tickles the hair by her neck as he speaks and she shivers.

“Oh, uh- right. Sorry.”

She does as she's told, suddenly feeling a little awkward. It's not like she's stripping in front of the guy, and even if she was, nudity was never that big of a deal for her. She actually found beauty in the human body.

Why, then, is she suddenly feeling shy?

Avery pulls the zipper down to her midriff, enough to give her room so she can shrug the shoulders of the suit down, exposing her upper back.

The bandages around her ribs cover enough of her chest that she doesn't need to worry about an accidental nip slip, so there's a plus.

Hancock sets to work, not seeming to notice her sudden awkwardness, something she's extremely thankful for. His fingers brush against her skin as he peels the bandage off her back and she's surprised at the warmth of them.

The tape used to hold the bandage on stings as it's pulled off, making her wince.

“Easy now, try not to move I'm going as slow as I can,” he says as he tugs the last bit of tape from her skin.

Her face heats up as she realizes what it is thats making her so weird; his voice. The lilt of his tone and the light rasp in his voice that's both soothing and demanding all in one. The carefree way he speaks and the almost sultry way he pronounces his words... well, it's enough to turn almost anything he says into an innuendo.

Rather or not that's on purpose is yet to be known.

“Ouch...” he hisses when the bandage is off.

“What?” Avery turns her head around to try and see the wound on her back, but it's too far down. “What is it?”

“Relax, just a lotta shit in here. Give me a minute.” He leaves the room and she takes in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. If it's as bad as he said, then there's a good chance it's infected too.

And god knows what kind of irradiated bacteria live in todays world. After all the shit she's gone through the thought of being done in by a simple infection makes her chuckle.

When Hancock comes back, he has a bucket in one hand and a rag in the other.

“Gotta make sure that things cleaned or else you're lookin at a nasty infection.”

“That bad?”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “Seen worse.”

He puts a hand on her bare shoulder to steady her while he begins wiping debris from her wound. His hand is warm and his skin...isn't like what she thought.

It's rough, yes, but it reminds her almost of Nates; the hands of a working man- calloused.

_Despite his off putting face, he's actually pretty damn nice._

Avery feels guilty for the thought. Her mother raised her to never judge a book by it's cover, but would she have said the same if she knew about ghouls? She probably would.

“So, I've been thinking.”

“Yeah?” He mumbles in response, putting most of his concentration to cleaning her wound.

“Caps. I've got about a hundred dollars on me, but apperantly that doesn't mean jack shit, so I guess I'm broke. I'm not about to start asking for hand outs, so I was wondering if you've got any work you need done. I can't do much in this state, but if there's anything...”

He stays silent, placing a new bandage over her newly cleaned wound then taping it down. She stands before pulling her vault suit back over her shoulders and zippering it up.

When Avery turns to face him, she catches him giving her a once over before making a face, but the meaning behind it, she can't quiet tell.

He digs a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one.

“I got some work,” he finally answers, exhaling smoke.

When he holds the pack out as an offer, she accepts, eager for the bitter sweet taste of the smoke.

Avery never made a habit out of smoking, really only partaking when drinking, but right now felt like as good a time as any. Everyone needs a vice, right?

“Most of it's scouting or some other kind of grunt work, but I'll see what I can scrounge up. Finish getting dressed and meet outside, we'll see what you can do.”

 

***

 

It only took her about ten minutes to get ready, but by the time she makes it to the outside of the building, Hancock is nowhere to be seen.

After another five minutes of waiting, she's about to head back inside, thinking maybe she missed him, when a womans voice catchers her attention.

“Huh, so you're finally gonna pull your weight around instead of sitting on your ass?”

Fahrenheit walks out from an alley up ahead. It's the first time Avery has heard the other woman talk and it reinforces her preconceived opinion that Fahrenheit isn't someone to take lightly.

“That's my plan...” Avery doesn't bother to hide the slight annoyance from her voice. “Where's Hancock?”

“Had some business to take care of. A little...mole rat problem.” Something about the way she phrased it has Avery thinking there's more to the story.

Whatever. Not her business.

“Okay, sure. Well, I' guessing you're here to give me a briefing on the job?”

“Yup. This way.”

Avery follows the other women around the corner of the building and they make a right at the memory den, where a carnage of bricks and rubble lie.

“Here you go.” Fahrenheit gestures lazily with her hand then turns to leave.

“Wait, you want me to fix the wall? I'm going to need a little bit more than 'here you go.'”

She turns back towards Avery, not even bothering to hide the pissed off tone in her voice. “No, I just wanted to show you the giant hole in the wall the super mutants made when they attacked.”

Avery looks at the other woman and opens her mouth to speak, then thinks better of it. _Pick your fights wisely,_ she reminds herself.

“Okay, so then where are the tools? Cement?”

“Cements over there,” Fahrenheit points to a giant barrel. “Hancocks offering two hundred for the whole job. Tools are in the shed.” And she's gone, leaving Avery to her own work.

The wall must be at least fifteen feet high, and twenty feet long. Do they really expect her to get this done in a day in her condition?

Still, though, she did say whayever it was, she'd do it. There was no use going back on her word now.

She only wished she'd have had Hancocks company while she worked.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a bit stuck on this chapter...

_**Hancock** _

 

Bullshit.

Everything single damn thing about this is plan  _bullshit!_

Nevermind his town being at war, now he has to deal with one of his own betraying him; using the chaos of the war to try and swipe his shit.

“Honest mistake it is, you know? Trying to steal from me.” Hancock yells around the corner of safe he's currently taking cover behind. “But trying to steal from me while I'm dealing with those super mutants' shit too? That's real dumb, Bobbi.”

“Aw, c'mon, Hancock. You can't blame a gal for trying.” Bobbi No-nose answers back, somewhere in the small maze of his strongroom.

Hancock quickly dashes into the open, narrowly missing a bullet before sliding back into cover, this time behind a giant bin that offers more protection.

“Real shame, though. Goodneighbor won't be the same without ya.” Keep her talking, that's his plan. If he can get vision on her, he should have no problem taking her out.

“If I get out of here, Goodneighbor can kiss my ass goodbye, I don't need to tell _you_ the worth of this damn room, Hancock. I'll be living the life after this.” Her voice sounds like it's somewhere to his right. He steps to the other side of the bin and allows himself a quick glance into the open.

He never thought he'd complain about having too much shit in his strongroom, but god damn. The hundreds of containers littering the room, some holding his stash, others empty decoys, provide annoyingly effective cover from the bullets flying back and forth.

But there she is, hiding behind a couple of barrels. She's pretty well hidden, but if he can get the right angle...

He holds the gun up, and with a little effort, aims the gun in perfect alliance with the woman's skull.

 _Real_ fuckin' shame.

Bobbi doesn't even have a chance to turn her head before the bullet he fired is embedded deep inside it.

Hancock steps out from hiding and walks over to where Bobbi now lays. The vacant look in her eyes is all the proof he needs to know that she's dead.

She was useful during fights and one hell of a drinking buddy, but there was no way he could let something like this slide.

It was things like this that he hated about his job, but in the kind of town he runs, loyalty is scarce. It's fear that keeps his people in line, and while he'd never admit it, it fuckin sucks.

Sure, he could of just sent Fahrenheit on over instead to deal with it, but lately his life has been feeling, what's the word...?

A little lackluster.

Between setting up trade caravans and trying to come up with a plan to win the fight, he's been doing a whole lot of nothing. Sitting on his ass, and getting too comfy with things, not something he particularly enjoys.

It's nice to be out in the game again, even though he'd rather be under different circumstances.

He searches Bobbi's body before grabbing the back of her shirt and hoisting her light corpse up. He half carries, half drags her outside where the guy whose robot blew a hole in his strongroom is waiting.

The second he sees Hancock exit he starts running his mouth.

“Hey, man, listen, I had no idea what Bobbi was planning. Didn't even know the score before I got here, so whatever-”

“Be a friend,” Hancock drops Bobbis' body at the other mans feet. “Do something about that, will ya?”

As whats-his-face scrambles to grab Bobbi, he lights up a cigarette.

Hancock has no intention of hurting the guy, doesn't have a reason to, but it's pretty damn funny watching him trip on his own two feet thinking he will.

By the time he finishes his smoke break, the guys already got a decent sized grave dug.

“So, we're good then, right?” The kid, Mel, asks while dropping Bobbis' corpse in the shallow hole.

“Depends, you ain't gonna try and steal from me again, are ya Brother?”

“Me? No. Hell, I actually want to thank you. I was getting tired of Bobbi yanking me into her crappy schemes, so yeah, I'd say we're good.”

“Alright, then see to it it stays that way.”

Both men part ways without another word, heading separate ways. He'll send a couple of his guys over later to fill in that damn hole, just in case that kid is dumb enough to try again.

Or maybe do it himself, save some caps.

He'd left sometime around 7a.m, but it's not until a little after midday, probably close to 2p.m when he finally makes it back to town.

“Farh!” He calls out to the woman, whose standing outside Kill or Be Killed. She looks up and nods to acknowledged his arrival, but says nothing.

Never been one for words, but she's got a good head on her shoulders. Not bad to look at either, but he wouldn't dream of saying that. No man with a brain would.

Anyway, she knows how to get shit done, which is why Hancock left her to assign Avery to one of the odd jobs he's been putting off around town.

“Where'd you assign the new gal?” Hancock figured she'd put her to work cleaning up the Third Rail, or maybe his office building. God knows that thing could use some TLC.

“The wall.” she replies curtly.

She's joking...right? She wouldn't seriously make someone who can hardly stand rebuild a fifteen foot wall, not even she's that heartless. He shakes his head at her and rushes off to check for himself.

As he rounds the corner to the main road, he curses under his breath.

She wasn't joking.

 _Of course she wasn't_ , he mentally corrects himself. Now he gets to feel like an ass for leaving the task of assigning that poor girl a job to someone like Fahrenheit.

Still, though, she didn't do too bad of a job. She's only got about three feet of wall built up, but for someone in her condition...not bad. Looks straight enough.

He comes out from the alley, but she's too concentrated on her work to notice at first.

“So you know, wasn't my idea to throw you here.” She looks up at the sound of his voice and waves to him, a smile on her face. Probably the warmest welcome he's had in a long time. “I thought it was a smart move, asking Fahr to cover for me while I took care of some things, but I guess that was a bad call on my part.”

The smile drops from her face as the realization it was Fahrenheit that put her there, and not him, sinks in. “Wow, well, okay. I mean if this wall doesn't hold up, it's all on her then. Who makes the gimp build a wall?”

The fact that she can joke her injuries is something he can get behind. You won't live long out here without a good sense of humor.

“Gotta say though, not too shabby. I mean, by the time you finish the super mutants would have came and had their way, but at least they'll have a nice wall for themselves.”

He barely catches the rusty trowel she throws his way.

“So help out, _Mayor.”_ There's that smile again.

A ghoul could get used to that kind of smile.

It's pretty damn nice, actually. Sure, he's got people he can talk to in Goodnieghbor, but friends? A Mayor doesn't really have time for friends, especially any mayor of this town.

Not saying Avery is a friend...but, ah, who the hell knows what he's trying to say. Not enough chems in his system, sobriety isn't good for his brain.

Using the trowel he throws a layer of cement on the wall while Avery sets to work putting a new row of bricks on top.

“So how'd things go with the mole rats?”

“Mole rats?”

“Yeah, Fahrenheit said you had to go take care of a mole rat problem.”

Hancock laughs. “I guess that's one way to put it.” She looks up from her work, confusion written in those big green eyes of hers.

He could go along with it, let her think it was nothing, but something in him...a pair of open ears might be a nice change.

“The other night I got word that one of my own was planning a heist. Normally I'd be all for it, a little excitement in times like this is good for the soul, ya feel me? But when it's my own stash they're after, things get a little hairy.”

“Wait, one of the townspeople tried stealing from you? Did you arrest them?” Hancock stops for a minute, the innocents in her question almost making him feel guilty for what he's about to say.

But it's something she needs to hear if she plans on surviving.

“If by 'arrest,' you mean put a bullet through their skull, then yeah, I guess you can say that.” He watches the surprise pass through her face, gone as quick as it came.

“Oh...I keep forgetting how...different things are.”

He planned on leaving the conversation like that, no explanation, but when he starts thinking how lost she must feel...damn. He's always had a soft spot for the helpless.

“Don't get me wrong,” his voice takes on a softer tone, “I never like taking down one of my own, but I gotta do what I gotta do. You let people walk all over you, and the next thing you know you're dead in a ditch somewhere, radroaches feeding on your corpse. You gotta remember that, Kid.”

She snorts.

“Hancock, I'm pretty sure we're close to the same age. And even if I'm younger than you, I've still got two-hundred years on me to make up for it.”

“Term of endearment, doll. I got a lot of em.”

She smiles at him, almost instantly lightening the mood, and sets back to work. He does the same.

“So, how did she get it? Don't you have some sort of safe?”

“Something like that. A warehouse that's booby trapped to hell and back is more like it, but yeah. She blew a damn hole in the floor, gonna be a bitch to fix.”

Through his peripherals he can see her biting her lip in thought, before looking over to him.

“I can help, if you need it. I mean, I know we don't know eachother well, but I'm pretty sure you can kick my ass if I try anything, and from what you say, you're short on hands to spare, so...I can help?”

Hancock snorts, “You're just trying to earn some brownie points, ain't ya? Help the big man in charge out so he'll let ya stay?” Still, he's smiling.

“And if I am?” He's gotta give her points for trying, at the very least.

It won't change anything, she'll still be leaving with the caravan, but he can't lie, he's taken a liking to her. She has a way of keeping things light, and she's eager to help.

The Commonwealth could use more people like Avery.

“Let's see how things go. If you're not sore after today, then color me impressed.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some serious trouble writing this chapter, I'm not good with writing inner thoughts, but enjoy anyway! :)

It's still dark outside when Averys woken by the sound of a knock at her doorway.

“You ready?” Fahrenheits voice is instantly recognizable.

It takes her a moment to understand her words. “What time is it?”

“Dunno.” She shrugs, “five, maybe? Hancock wants to head out early, you still in?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute. I'll be down.”

“We're leaving soon. Hurry.” And she's gone without another word. Avery's slowly starting to get used Fahrenheit's curt way of interacting.

Everyone else seems to have accepted it long ago.

As she sits up, the dull ache in her body makes her wince. Hancock wasn't kidding when he said she'd be sore after all the work they did yesterday. Once he started helping out, things went a lot faster than she thought. They'd finished in about five hours.

Of course, she only got a hundred-fifty caps, instead of the two-hundred she was promised, but had he not helped out, she probably wouldn't have finished, and gotten even less. Hell, even that was probably generous of him considering how little she'd gotten done by herself.

She doesn't bother changing her bandages, it can wait until later. Using her fingers, she combs through her hair, ties it up, sand heads outside where Hancock and Fahrenheit are already waiting.

A third person, MacCready is with them as well. “Hey! Look who decided to join the party!” He seems like he's in a better mood than the first time they met.

“Didn't think we'd be leaving this early.” She fights back a yawn.

“Super mutants are less active around this time.” Fahrenheit answers.

Avery blinks.

The super mutants never actually crossed her mind when she'd agreed to come along.

“Is it okay for us to be out there? With all the super mutants, I mean.”

“We'll hear em before we see em, Sister. Trust me,” It's then that she notices that while Hancock is still sporting his tricorne hat, he's traded his usual worn out frock in favor a leather jacket and jeans.

It's a good look for him.

“So we gonna get moving?” MacCready asks, “I wanna be back before noon.”

“Keep your pants on, kid. Here,” Hancock turns to Avery and pulls out a pistol and flip knife. “Not sure how good you are with these, but if something goes down, you're gonna need a way to defend yourself.”

“Well, my aim is shit,” she ties the guns holster to her leg, “but I'm pretty sure I manage with this,” she takes the knife and tucks it in the chest pocket of her suit.

Fahrenheit snorts, “If you get close enough to stab a super mutant, you're already pretty screwed.”

“Fahr,” Hancock growls a warning. She's returns his words with a cocky grin.

The woman's got balls, that's for sure.

“Between the three of us,” MacCready pats a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “you got nothing to worry about. Just stay close.” His words are a small comfort.

“That's my plan.” She says as they step outside the walls of Goodneighbor.

 

* * *

 

For the most part, the walk had been quite. They'd come across a nest of mole rats that Maccready took down before she even had a chance to realize they were being attacked.

Maybe Avery could ask him to teach her? She doubted he'd do it for free, she got the feeling the guys a real scrooge, but sparing a few caps to learn a thing or two wouldn't be the worst thing she could waste money on.

Asking Fahrenheit is out of the question, that woman would run her to her grave.

They pass a freshly dug grave, and wonders for a second if the corpse beneath it belongs to the thief.

It must.

Hancock leads them to a giant sewage pipe sticking out of the ground, the entrance covered in vines.

“I don't want any wonderin' hands,” Hancocks eyes dart to Maccready in a silent warning. He walks over to the pipe and brushes the overgrowth aside.

“Give me _some_ credit, Hancock. I'm desperate, but not that-”

“Quiet.” Hancock cuts him off.

He reaches behind himself where his gun is holstered and pulls it out before disappearing behind the vegetation.

Fahrenheit follows, gun in hand.

Maccready has his rifle poised to shoot and uses the barrel of his gun to push the vines aside. He nods towards Avery, signaling for her to move in.

She reaches for her own gun, but then thinks better and grabs for her knife instead. In such close quarters, friendly fire is all too likely, especially by someone with her skill- or lack thereof.

It's not until she steps through the entrance that she hears the dull banging against the door stationed at the end of the pipe.

“You sure Bobbi didn't bring anyone else?” Maccready asks from the back of the group, his gun still positioned to shoot.

“Double checked everything myself. Fahr.” Hancock signals for her to open the door.

Avery takes a few steps forward, tension visible in her body, as she does her best to stay out of Maccready's line of sight.

As Fahrenheit approaches the door, Avery second guesses herself. Would a knife really protect her if something dangerous is on the other side of that door?

No, she has to trust that the rest of the group will have her back if something goes wrong; a knife is her best choice.

Fahrenheit slides a key into the door that makes a soft click as it unlocks. She holds up her other hand, three fingers raised.

Two.

One.

She rips open the door, stepping aside as a ghoul rushes out. Followed by another.

And another.

A small wave of at least seven come darting out through the door, limbs flailing, guttural growls reverberating off the metal walls.

The first one falls immediately as a bullet blows straight through it's skull, but the others quickly close the distance, two of them lunging at Hancock. Fahrenheit jumps out from behind the door and catches one by the back of it's tattered shirt before bringing her gun to it's head, pulling the trigger.

Avery stares, frozen in place as Hancock tries to fight off the two pinning him to the ground. MacCreadys gun sounds off from behind her, killing one mid air. It's limp body slams into Hancock, knocking him over and pinning him down.

Another one is already taking it's place, throwing itself on top of Hancock. He struggles to get an arm free, but three adult sized ghouls is too much.

Avery grips onto the knife in her hand, knuckles going white. She doesn't have a plan as she lunges for one of the ghouls pinning Hancock down, she just acts.

Her arm closes around ones neck, it's skin slimy as the smell hits her, like rancid sewage and death.

It's arms flail wildly, almost knocking her off before going limp as she plunges her blade deep within it's skull.

The second ghoul leaps off Hancock, and slams her into the cold, wet ground.

It's chest caves in unnaturally far as her hand pushes against it, trying desperately to keep it's snapping jaws away from her face.

Thick, almost coagulated blood splatters across her face as it's heads blown clear off.

She tries not to gag.

“A little...help?!” Fahrenheit calls out, fighting off a group of ghouls that managed to back her into a corner.

Avery looks over where the two men are already busy fighting off a small horde, unable to help.

She shoves the rotting corpse away with surprising ease, and pulls her gun out from it's holster, aiming it at one of the ghouls clawing at Fahrenheit.

It's only about ten feet away. It should be an easy kill, but...

She can't get a clear shot, they won't stay still, and her hands are shaking.

If she doesn't shoot, Fahrenheit will...

The soft click of the safety seems louder than it should.

But if she misses...

“PULL THE FUCKING TRIGGER!” Fahrenheit screams as she headbutts the ghoul who almost sunk it's teeth into her throat.

Avery takes a deep breath, holds it..

And pulls the trigger.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day, I'm on a roll!
> 
> Another slightly boring chapter, but don't worry, the next will make up for it, I promise. ;) ;)

The ghoul recoils as the bullet tears through the rotting flesh of it's back, giving Fahrenheit the split second she needs to slam her foot into it's chest, sending it flying backwards.

With practiced hands, she draws her knife and pierces the others skull, killing it instantly.

With the other woman safe, Avery lets out the breath she's been holding, her legs quivering.

She didn't miss. Holy shit, she'd actually hit it.

She just saved Fahrenheit's life.

Her attention goes back to the two men behind her just in time to see MacCready take out the last ghoul. Both men are panting from the exertion, but they seem no worse for wear.

They were all safe.

The smile on her face drops as Hancock draws his gun, pointing it directly at her.

“Hanco-” Her words are cut short as the loud crack of a gunshot pierces the air.

Avery instinctively shrinks back, and closes her eyes, knowing it's hopeless to dodge a bullet.

She waits for the pain she knows will come when somewhere in the back of her panicked mind she registers a dull thud behind her.

What..?

And then she remembers. Sure enough when she turns around a ghoul is lying dead at her feet; the same ghoul she'd shot in the back and Fahrenheit had sent flying into the wall.

She looks back to Hancock whose already staring at her, an expecting look on his face.

“Thank you,” her words are shaky, “and, uhm, sorry...I thought-”

“ You're good, Sister,” he cuts her apology short. His eyes sweep over the corpses before he turns back to Avery. “Did a damn fine job back there too, I'm impressed.”

“Are ferals part of your security now, Hancock?” MacCready asks, shaking some of the dirt off his hate before putting it back on.

“Must'a got in through the hole Bobbi blew in the ground.

“Freaking fantastic...” He sounds more than a little annoyed.

“Ferals? Who are they?” Avery looks down at one of the ghouls and really gets a good look at them. They seem different than the ones she's seen in Goodneighbor, dirtier, more rotted through.

And a hell of a lot smellier.

“Feral ghouls.” Fahrenheit answers for her.

“Are they some kind of group?”

“Something like that,” MacCready mumbles as he passes by her and takes a quick look into the warehouse. “Damn, I mean... dang, Hancock, got enough crap?”

“Two things you can never have enough of are chems and caps, 'Cready.” Hancock goes to the other man and does his own quick sweep of the building.

“Coast looks clear. I'd do a once over though, to be safe.” MacCready assures him.

“Yeah. Alright, Avery, you stay here with MacCready, watch his six, you,” he points to the other man, “put that scope to some use and watch our backs. Me 'n Fahr will scout out, make sure the place is safe.”

The three of them nod at the Mayor before setting out. Avery taking her spot at MacCreadys back, watching the entrance.

From what she saw, the strongroom isn't too big, so it shouldn't take too long between the two of them. Every so often she hears the odd bullet, or the strangled growl of a feral, which brings her back...

“So you guys were talking before about feral ghouls...who are they? They don't seem,” she searches for the right word, “...human.”

“I guess you can say that. They're ghouls, like Hancock, but the radiation, the reason they look all jacked up, it drives 'em crazy.”

“Oh...” So all those ghouls they just killed...they were once regular people too, possibly even innocent, harmless citizens trying to survive. “How come they went crazy and not the ones at Goodneighbor?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs. Avery expects him to leave it at that, but when he turns to her and sees her confusion, he speaks again. “No one really does. Some stay sane for centuries, like Daisy, others...they turn in days. It's why everyone's so up in arms about ghouls in the first place; if one can turn then they all can. At least that's how they think.”

“So, _do_ they all turn?”

“Dunno that either. Don't even know why some folks go ghoul and others die from the radiation. Doubt we ever will.”

They talk a little more about ghouls, about Diamond City, who apparently banned ghouls after one went insane and attacked people. MacCready tells her that Hancock used to live there too, and how he left when the Mayor kicked out the rest of the ghouls.

Hadn't Hancock said he was sending her somewhere near Diamond City? It didn't sound like the kind of place she wanted to be a part of, or anywhere near, for that matter.

She just has to work harder to prove she can be useful.

And she knows a good place to start.

“Hey, MacCready?”

“Yeah?”

“You gonna be okay if I clear out these bodies? The smell is killing me.”

“Long as you don't get yourself killed, go for it. You'd be doing us all a favor.”

She tucks her gun back into the holster, leaving it open for easy access, and set to work. Despite being full grown adults, the bodies were surprisingly light. She dragged them one by one into a pile a couple feet away from the entrance, eleven in total. They left a pretty big mess, but for the most part all the bodies were still intact, with the exception of one or two blown off heads. It was an easy clean up, didn't take her more than ten minutes, tops.

When she returned, MacCready was gone, Hancock waiting in his place.

“Not bad, Sister. You're making my job easier and easier.”

“That's my goal.” She flashes a quick smile.

Avery has no doubts in her mind that Hancock knows what she's after, he's the one who called her out on it to begin with, but she's thankful he doesn't say anything more on it.

“Place is cleared. Ready for the hard part?”

“Hard part?” The way he says it, as if it's been easy up until now. She lets out a loud, exhausted sigh, as Hancock turns to lead the way.

But not before she catches the small smile playing at his lips at her expense.

“You ass. I saw that smile, I'm dying here and you're laughing.”

Hancock snorts, “So I'm an ass now?” He turns to her and his smile is now an amused grin.

“It's a term of endearment, I got a lot of them,” she playfully repeats the words he used yesterday.

“Well, if that's the case, I have a preference for ones like 'sexy' or 'good looking.' Hell, even 'Master,' might work, not really my thing, but hey, if it's you saying it,” he winks at her.

“Get out of here.” Her own laugh matches his as she playfully shoves him aside.

When they get to the back of the warehouse, Fahrenheit and MacCready have already gone down the giant hole, and Avery can hear the distinct sound of rubble being moved.

“So, where do you want me?”

He thinks for a minute before answering. “I could use a third person down there clearing out some rubble, or, if you're not up to it, you can help me find some empty containers to fill up this hole.”

“Not up to it? Pfft, crawling in creepy, dark, dangerous holes is kind of my thing.” She steps the edge to assess the best way down.

In the corner is a wire mesh leading onto the ground some ten feet below that she can use to climb down.

“You get 'em sister.” Hancocks calls out as she climbs into the darkness below.

After her eyes adjust to the dim lighting, she spots MacCready and Fahrenheit in the corner of the room where a doorway is.

They're taking rubble from the floor of the warehouse and using it to barricade the doorway. Without waiting for instructions, she picks up a sizable hunk of cement and carries it over to lay it on top of the others.

It's slow work, made even slower by the occasional ghoul finding it's way over, but they manage to get it done in about two hours.

Her arms are screaming by the time she's done, and it takes her a little extra effort to climb the mesh back to the ground floor.

Averys surprised when Fahrenheit offers a hand to help her up, “Thanks.” She grabs the woman's calloused hand and lets out a small squeak when Fahrenheit practically lifts her the rest of the way up.

“All done?” Hancock asks once they're all out. Somewhere during the time she was underground, he must have taken off his leather jacket. It's now draped over his shoulders, an off white tank top covering his torso.

The muscles of his arms flex as he sets down a small safe he'd carried over, and she's only mildly put off by his skin, becoming more accustomed to his ghoulish appearance.

Instead, she's finding herself more drawn in by the muscle tone in his lithe body. The way his shirt clings to his torso in all the right places.

Her eyes float back up to his face, or more precisely, his nose. Weird enough, it wasn't the skin that skeeved her out, but the gaping cavity that a nose would normal sit.

His attributes are all there; a soft, but angled jaw line, strong cheek bones, perfectly oval eyes. He was a handsome man, that was obvious, but the nose...his nose.

The nose is made of cartilage.

Ears... they're made of cartilage, too.

She has yet to see a ghoul with a nose, and very few have intact ears...what other cartilage based appendages could be missing?

Her face reddens.

Let's not go there.

What even got her on this train of thought to begin with?

“You going to stand around and watch, or you going to help?” Of course it's Fahrenheit who interrupts her thoughts. Nothing new there.

The three of them already have an object in their arms. MacCready and Hancock work together to toss a huge metal box into the hole, Fahrenheit pushes a filing cabinet in next.

With the loud smashing of the metal hitting the ground, Avery now understands why they barricaded the entry to the subway first; all this noise is bound to attract attention.

She spots a bunch of metal barrels mixed in with the various containers, and rolls them over into the hole.

Just like with the blockade, they all make short work of filling up the hole, done in roughly three hours.

“Will that keep them out?” Avery asks, looking at their handiwork.

“ If I had to guess, that's about five-hundred pounds of metal, and I already had some guys fill in the other end in Goodneighbor, so, yeah, I think we're set.”

Before they leave for home- for Goodneighbor, Hancock set fire to the pile of ghouls she'd made outside the pipe, insisting they'd attract attention if left to rot.

Fahrenheit had stayed behind to make sure the fire stayed under control while the rest headed out.

They'd left town at dawn, and didn't return until dusk, the sun setting a little under an hour before they'd gotten back.

Avery was exhausted, and for once couldn't wait to climb into the springy, lumpy mattress she's grown to hate.

And yet, when Hancock asks,

“Whose up for a drink? On yours truly.”

It's only natural she replies,

“Free alcohol? Count me in.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got this amazingly awesome Wine last night, and maayybe had a bit much. Well, drunk me thought sitting down to write was the perfect way to pass the time!
> 
> Found it this morning, liked it, and decided to stick with it! (after fixing some serious grammar and spelling issues, obviously.)
> 
> Also:  
> -Drunk me found these jokes hilarious.  
> -Sober me agrees. ;)
> 
>  
> 
> .

About an hour later, after taking time to clean up and change, the three meet up in front of the Third Rail. Even from outside they can hear the sounds of the bar, which is unusually loud. An upbeat song pulses through the air, completely different from the slow, rhythmic tune she's used to from Magnolia. It's a good change.

A few of the drunker patrons are singing a long, albeit out of tune, while some make up their own words as they go. It's a complete change from the Goodneighbor she's come to know.

“Did we miss something?” Avery has to yell over the crowd.

“Seems like it. Hey, Chuck,” Hancock calls over the counter to the Mister Handy working the bar.

“Ay, if it isn't the Mayor 'imself!” Charlie's already making Hancocks special cocktail. “A whiskey for MacCready, and a beer for the lady, ay?”

“Actually, Chuck, make it a special. She's earned it.” Hancock answers before she has the chance.

“Oh,? Sounds like a story worth hearin'. Another time, though, yeah. Two specials comin' right up.” He floats off mumbling to himself something Avery can't quiet catch.

“Thanks. I'm not sure what I did, but I'm glad I did it.” She pulls out a stool and sits. Whatever it was, it landed her what could possibly be her new favorite drink.

“You know what you did,” Hancock pulls out a stool of his own next to hers. “Ya held your own, saved our asses, and took out some ferals. You did good.”

“You surprised me, that's for sure.” MacCready leans on the counter.

Avery snorts. “I surprised _myself_. Thought I was gonna miss and shoot Fahrenheit by accident,” she shakes her head. “But I figured it would have been better than being chewed apart, so...”

Hancock laughs; a _real,_ genuine laugh. “Don't tell her that. Holy shit, I can almost see the look on her face. She'd kill ya.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.”

Just then Charlie comes back with the drinks.

Which reminds her...

“Charlie?” Avery asks.

“Yeah?”

“Did something happen when we were gone? Everyone seems, I don't know, happier?”

“S'pose you lot wouldn'ta heard. Finn found a caravan not far out chalk full of supplies, booze mostly. Bunch of bodies layin' around, real blood bath, he said. Poor sods.”

MacCready snorts, “That basta- moron would find the good crap.” He downs the shot glass of whiskey in one go. “How much you wanna bet he didn't actually 'find' it. Probably killed em himself.”

“Not my problem,” Charlie answers. “I got fresh stock, the towns got some more ammunition, and right now, that's good enough for me. That'll be fifteen caps, Mayor.” Charlies takes the payment and he's gone.

Avery glances over to Hancock who suddenly looks deep in thought. She didn't know Finn, but from the few words she's shared with him...well, what MacCready said, it wouldn't surprise her.

The real question is, what does Hancock think? He seems like the kind of person who was all about fairness; an eye for an eye kind of guy. Would an innocence death be justify helping his town?

She looks down at her glass, filled to the top with the familiar pink liquid, suddenly aware how quiet things have gotten. Not that the bar itself has died down, the party is still in full swing, but a heaviness has set in their little circle.

She picks the glass up, and takes a healthy drink, almost draining the glass in one go. She shudders as the alcohol burns her stomach, but it's a good burn. Been way too long since she's drank, even if she _didn't_ count the two-hundred years she's been frozen.

The three of them sip their drinks in silence. Charlie already has two cocktails ready for when she and Hancock finish their first.

This one seems even stronger than the last. Avery never was a light weight, but Charlie must make these things extra strong, because she's can already feel a good buzz coming on after one drink.

Ah, fuck it. She chugs the drink in one go, and sets the glass down, a little harder than she meant.

Time to lighten the mood.

“So,” she starts, her voice seeming a little too loud, even to her, “who knows some good jokes?”

Both men look at her like she's gone crazy.

“Oh come on. Everyone loves a good joke, and you two look like you could use one. Oh, I know! Knock knock.”

“Knock knock jokes? Really?” MacCready reaches for his newly refilled glass. “If that's where this night is heading, I'm gonna need something stronger.”

“Knock knock~” It comes out in a sing songy almost slur as the alcohol takes over.

Hancock sighs, “Alright, I'll bite. Whose there?”

“A little old lady.”

“A little old lady, who?”

“Hancock! I didn't know you could yodel!” Avery half giggles, half snorts at her own joke. A joke she's both heard and told a million times before.

It shouldn't be this funny anymore.

“Oh god...” MacCready mumbles under his breath before downing the rest of his glass.

“Really, Sister?” Hancock finishes the rest of his drink. “'Cready's right, I'm not drunk enough for this either.”

“Oh, come on! You know 'Yodel-ay-hee-hoo!' and 'A little old lady who!' Get it?”

“Oh, I get it, but if that's the best you got...” He clicks his tongue in disappointment.

He's teasing her, something he seemed to like doing recently.

“Okay. Fine, you do better.”

“Alright,” Hancock sits back in his chair, pulls out a smoke and lights it. “So, there's two ghouls out on a nice dinner date, yeah? Well they're walking, minding their own business, and out of no where a settler pops outta the corner, sees them, turns tail and runs right on outta there.” Smoke floats out his nasal cavity as he speaks, “So the one ghoul says to the other 'Dammit, Frank, you know I hate fast food!'”

MacCready almost chokes on his whiskey, “Now _that's_ a joke.”

What..?

Fast food...

And then she gets it.

Laughter bubbles up and she covers her mouth in a half assed attempt to hold it in.

“That's wrong on so many levels, but damn,” she manages between bursts of laughter.

“Damn, sister,” his dark eyes fall on her own, and a playful grin tilts his lips. “I think you're the first woman I ever made laugh this much. Well, you and my mother when I told her I wanted to be a scientist.” He shakes his head, “Mommy dearest never did have much faith in me.”

That pulls out a whole new set of laughter. The kind that takes your breath away, makes your stomach hurt and tears roll down your cheeks.

It feels good to laugh like this.

“Hancock, I think you broke her.” Six shots in and MacCready is now just starting to slur.

“Oh,” Avery has to steady her breathing before she can continue. “I swear I'm not normally this giggly. Been too long since I had time to take a break and have a drink with friends.”

“Didn't get out much, I'm guessing?” MacCready's looking at her now.

“Nah,” she rolls her eyes, “Nate was the jealous type and I was stupid enough to listen when he told me to drop my friends. Never doing that again, God.” It's probably the alcohol, but even though it's only been a few short weeks, she's already starting to come to terms with things.

At least things with Nate...

“So, got any others?” Keep things light. Yeah.

“Tons of em, but we gotta save that for another night. Time for this ghoul to hit the hay.”

She was too caught up in the fun to realize just how much time had passed. As she looks around, she sees most of the people have cleared out. Only a few remain.

She glances down to see five empty glasses she must have downed without knowing.

Gonna feel that one in the morning.

“Yeah, I probably should too before I end up on the floor.”

“Aw, c'mon. Don't be a bunch of party poopers!” MacCreadys slurs the sentence out. “Hey, look who it is. Fahrenheit!” He waves over to the entrance where, sure enough, Fahrenheit is standing.

“Figures you'd be here.” She leisurely strolls over to the booth. “Took care of the fire, and cleared it all out already.”

She drags a bar stool over and sits.

Hancock nods at her, “Good.”

“So,” MacCready interrupts. “You gonna drink with me or what?” He slides a glass at her. She catches it and studies it for a minute before taking a small sip.

Avery makes a dull note how the corners of her mouth twitch at the burn of the alcohol.

“See, Fahrenheit knows how to party.”

“Don't push your luck, MacCready.” She warns before downing the rest of the whiskey.

She wonders briefly what kind of drunk the other woman is, but can't wrap her head around the idea.

“Yeah, yeah. Enjoy the party for two.” Hancock winks as he stands.

“Don't give me that crap, Hancock.” MacCready swats a misguided hand at him and misses entirely.

Avery slides off the stool and nearly looses her balance as she lands.

“Woah, the floor is...wow.” She sways a little as Hancock reaches out to steady her.

“C'mon, sister. Easy goes.” He gently guides her by the elbow to the exit, leaving the emptying bar.

They stumble out into the street and make the short walk into the office building relatively easy.

It's the steps that give them a problem, both having to use the other as support as they climb the spiraling staircase.

“Shit, ain't been this drunk years. Never drinking with the two o' you again. Yer trouble!” Hancock wobbles a little as they reach the last step, and grabs onto the railing for support.

He's feeling the alcohol, that's for sure. Wherever he's at on the buzz train though, it's nowhere near as gone as Avery is.

She giggles, “Reallllyy? 'M sorry~” Her words sound more like one long slur.

“'S a compliment, lil bit o' troubles good for the soul,” he laughs when she has to hold her arms out for balance as she stumbles onto the landing.

Hancock doesn't do any better, needing to use the wall of the narrow hallway to hold himself up.

Avery looks over at the strange yet familiar man leaning against the wall. She may not know much about him, but she decides, once and for all, that he's a good man. He's a friend.

She wants to tell him this, but she knows the second she opens her mouth the only thing that'll come out is another fit of giggles.

The hells so funny anyway? She can't stop smiling, no matter how hard she tries.

Even when the ground slips out from under her feet.

Avery blinks a few times as the floor, less than a foot in front of her face comes into focus. That would have hurt like a mother fucker..

Something gently tugs her back on her feet.

She turns her head to see Hancock standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, making sure she doesn't fall again.

His breath is hot against her skin, quickened by the flights of stairs they just wrestled to climb.

“You should be more careful,” the raspy hum of his voice sends a soft shiver through her body.

His hands slide off her hips as he goes to move, but her delicate hand reaches out, and catches him by the lapels of his coat, stopping him.

Her face flushes, unsure what possessed her to...

But as she looks up to see Hancocks eyes already locked onto her, the intensity of his gaze dissipates any questions as to _why_ she did what she did.

He's so close, that for the first time she can actually see the detail in his eyes, the faint circles of his iris, just a shade darker than the rest of his eye, the raw emotion they express.

She can see the way they're searching her own viridescent eyes, looking for an answer to a question his mouth can't find the words to ask.

Her fingers unconsciously tighten on the fabric of his coat, her thumb brushing softly against the skin of his exposed chest.

She's so focused on controlling her own breathing that she almost misses the hitch in his at the brief contact.

Almost.

He takes a small step closer, and with less than an inch now separating them, she can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of her clothes.

“Hancock...” her voice is below a whisper, her words almost lost to the silence of the building.

She's dully aware of his fingers lightly trailing up her arm, sending tingles wherever his rough skin makes contact with her own.

Her body suddenly feels weak under his touch and her legs quiver, almost giving out.

A gentle grip on her arms steadies her.

“You're bound to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow. You know that, right?” his voice sounds abnormally loud in the quiet building, but there's something else there too. Something almost mournful.

A voice somewhere in the back of her mind pleads for her to speak up, but her mouth can't find the strength to move.

He thumbs over the back of her hand, a feather light touch, as he gently untangles her fingers from his jacket. His hand lingers for just a second before letting go and stepping away.

“Get some rest, Sister.”

Avery watches as he retreats into his office, never once looking back. It's only now, with the heat of his body gone, that she realizes just how cold it is.

A nice warm bed sounds like the best damn thing in the world right now.

The hallway that always seems so short suddenly feels a thousand times longer in the pitch blackness of the night.

 _Third door on the right._ She repeats the thought in her head. _Or is it the fourth?_

Using her hands to feel along the walls, she counts the doors as she goes...

And almost loses her balance as her hands fall into the empty doorway of her room. She barely manages to shuffle over to her empty bed before half climbing, half falling into it.

She's out the second her head hits the pillow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dammit Hancock!
> 
> ༼ノಠل͟ಠ༽ノ ︵ ┻━┻


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we're about at the halfway point of the story! :)
> 
> I can't tell if I'm pacing things too fast. 
> 
> I originally planned to kind of challenge myself by making each chapter no more than 2,500 words (I tend to over explain things, which I'm working on) and to be about 20 chapters long. 
> 
> So far, it looks like this is going to be about 20-30 chapters long. I'm new to writing, so as always, constructive criticism is always welcome! :)

Averys pulled out of bed by the back of her shirt, landing hard on the cold ground all before she even has a chance to wake up.

The fuck?

Something hits her in the face and it takes her a second to realize it's clothes. Not her normal vault suit, but denim jeans, a faded green button down and a ruined leather jacket.

She rubs the sleep from her eyes and realizes it's still dark outside.

“Fahrenheit, what the hell?”

“Hurry up and get dressed.” She demands, tearing through the dressers looking for god knows what.

“First, tell me why the hell you barged in here in the middle of the fucking night to literally drag me out of my fucking bed!?”

“Change of plans. You're leaving now.”

“What?!”

“There's a small army of Super Mutants not far out, half the towns still drunk, the other half is probably too hung over to fight .” She throws some food rations in a backpack along with some more clothes she's never seen before.

“Hell no, I'm not going anywhere. I want to stay.” She stands to pull the jeans up, slides the shirt over her head.

“If it were up to me, your ass would be out there fighting, but it's not my call.” Fahrenheit hands her the holster for the gun Hancock gave her earlier yesterday. “Dammit, out of all the times they could come...” She's mumbling to herself.

Out of all the times the super mutants could attack...No.

“Fahr, you don't think they planted a trap, do you? Let us find that caravan of alcohol so they could take us out easier?”

She stops digging through the dressers long enough to give herself a second to think, “Maybe...no, no.” She shakes her head, “theres no way they're that smart. Saw one stuck in a building once because it was trying to push the door when you had to pull it. Dumb bastard died in there. No way...”

She's right...unless...

Unless they had help.

Fuck. She pulls the leather jacket over her shoulders and slings the backpack over her arm. _I was suppose to have one more day to try and convince Hancock...shit shit shit!_

“Whats the plan, then?”

“Out in the back by the wall there's a caravan waiting for you, go with them. I packed all the ammo we could spare, but it's not much so watch it.” Fahrenheit grabs her by the arm and drags her down the stairs.

Avery can still feel the lingering affects of alcohol but she pushes through it, taking two steps at a time.

The second they're outside the smell of smoke burns her nostrils, and bullets ring through the air. She looks over to see the front gate caught up in flames, a few of the older townspeople struggling to get the blaze under control.

The rest are charging straight into the streets of Boston, guns raised and fingers to the trigger.

There has to be something...

Her thoughts are cut short as a bright light temporarily illuminates the night sky, and a deafening boom echoes through the empty streets.

Seconds later the ground begins to shake as Avery watches the silhouette of a distant building crumbling to the ground.

“Fucking fat man!” Fahrenheit yells, and before Avery can question her, she chargers off to help the others fight.

“Fahrenheit!”

“Get to the wall!” She calls behind her before disappearing through the still flaming gates of Goodneighbor.

Avery stands, rooted in place as people shove past her, some running to escape or hide, others running into the fray to fight.

“Hey! You, you're the girl I'm spose to take with me, yeah? The fuck ya doing, get over here!” A raspy voice screams out from somewhere behind her.

But...she needs to help! She should be doing something, she can't leave!

Not now, not when...oh god.

Rough hands grab her by the arm, dragging her towards the wall. “Mayor of yours payed me good caps to get your ass outta here dammit, don't just stand around.”

Her heart beats hard in her chest as she tries to free herself from the man, but to no avail.

She has to do something, anything, people are going to die!

Everything is suddenly in slow motion. She can clearly see the faces of each person as they pass, faces she's come to know. Goodneighbor isn't a big town, thirty, maybe forty tops...and all of them are going to...

The sound of shattering glass pierces the air, followed a woosh as flames quickly engulf the streets only a few feet away.

A Molotov.

The smell of her own burning hair fills her nose, and she can feel her skin begin to blister from the heat.

“Hannah! HANNAH!” A boy, no older than fifteen is screaming a few feet away. “My sister! My sisters in there, HANNAH!”

Hannah...a memory she didn't even know she had rushes to the surface.

The little orphan girl and her two older brothers playing in the streets of Goodneighbor...

Children. They're only children!

Avery tries to break free, to go help the boy but the mans vice like grip is too strong.

“Stop! There's a little girl in there, I have to help her, stop! Let me go!” She struggles harder but it's no use.

The man drags her farther and farther away while an innocent child slowly burns to death.

She can help, she could do something, if only this pathetic disgrace of a human would let her fucking arm go!!!

And then she sees him.

Blood leaks down his face from a wound on his head, dirt and soot cover his clothes, but other than that he seems okay.

Their eyes meet for a brief moment, and he nods his head in a silent goodbye.

Her heart skips a beat as he runs past her, right into the burning building behind them.

“Hancock...”

Avery drops to her knees, trying her best to slow the man down.

If Hancock needs her help, if he doesn't make it out...

Rough hands grab onto her shirt and he hauls her over his shoulder with ease, like she weighs no more than an infant.

“You. Piece. Of. SHIT!” Each word is accentuated by a blow to his back, but it does nothing. “Let me go!! They need me! They need help!”

“God dammit, stop struggling you dumb bitch!”

“I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you! Let me go!”

But he doesn't.

She watches as the building burns, the flames growing with each second that passes.

She can do nothing but listen as the boy screams for his lost sister, as gunshots echo in the streets.

Off in the near distance another bomb goes off, more buildings crumble.

She can't save them...

Just like she couldn't save her son. Her husband.

She just...can't.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have another chapter. :D

It's been almost three days. 

Three fucking days she's been travel with these morons, dreading every morning she has to wake up.

It's honestly a wonder how they've made it as long as they have.

Or why they're traveling together in the first place.

All they do is argue about the most stupid things, like a bunch of children. Only an hour ago they picked a fight over who had to take the burnt piece of meat, the fight almost escalating to the point of throwing punches.

In the end, they'd made her take it...fuckers.

If she'd fought harder...but it wouldn't have made a difference, she reminds herself. Darius was a dumb son-of-a-bitch, but he was also basically a wall of muscle. She'd had no hope fighting off a man like that.

Even when she'd kicked and punched him as hard as she was capable as he carried her away, he wouldn't budge.

“I'm telling you, just calm the fuck down and this'll be easier.” He'd said to her as he threw her into the back of the caravan, closing the door and locking it.

“Go fuck yourself.” She'd spat at him through the little square that was suppose to serve as a window.

The way his body tensed, she thought he was about to hit her.

Well, let him. Not like she'd feel it anyway. It was almost as if her whole body, inside and out had gone numb the second she saw that burning building collapse, no sign of Hancock in sight... 

“Hurry up, we got company!” One of the others yelled back.

“Pull something like that again, and you'll regret it.” He growled through the door before jumping on the front of the caravan.

She watched, through the tiny window, as a group of super mutants climbed over the wall with ease, each armed to the tooth with weapons.

Behind them, the night sky was illuminated by the fire slowly consuming the town as screams and gun fire echoed through the air.

, Dammit! She'd have to find her way back...

But how...they'd taken everything from her the night they'd kidnapped her. Her weapons, her supplies, even the caps she'd earned. 

But she'd made it into town with nothing once already. She'd do it again.

“She still alive in there?” One of the men ask, his words thick with a ghoulish rasp.

A man she only recently realized she'd met before, the guy she saw talking to Hancock outside of the Rexford a few days before. Only back then, she knew him as Suit Guy.

Axel is his name.

“Yeah,” Avery lies. She kind of needed a bathroom break, but whatever. Not like they'd let her anyway.

Maybe she'd just piss on their supplies, sabotage their little business.

She chuckles to herself. It's not the first time that thoughts like that popped into her head...ways to get back at them that have ranged from petty things like spitting in their food while they're not looking to straight out killing them. It was small thoughts like that that were keeping her sane.

It had taken them about two hours to get out of town...if she had to guess, they were about fifty miles off, give or take. Walking back would be slow, but-

Her thoughts are cut short as the caravan hits a hard bump, sending her flying into the nearby wall.

Heavy boxes of supplies slide with her, pinning her down.

“Jesus Christ, what the hells going on?” Avery yells out, pushing some of the boxes away so she could breath.

“Tire fell off. Dammit, I told you all that extra weight was gonna break it!” Darius gruff voice is easily recognizable.

Extra weight. He's talking about her.

“Well maybe if you wouldn't lock me in here this wouldn't have happened.” Avery calmly says. 

“Well maybe if your dumb ass wouldn't try to run every time we let you out.”

“Then let me go. You got your caps.”

OF course she knew they wouldn't.

Just like she knew she was never going to make it to whatever settlement they were paid to take her to.

Instead, they planned to sell her. The first night they'd taken- kidnapped her, she'd over heard them talking about it. 

Apparently some sleezebag pervert is willing to pay three times the caps Hancock gave them. It was never in their plans to keep her safe...

“For fucks sake, Darius, stop arguing with the girl.” Allens voice is muffled through the wood..

Hancock was the one she should be mad at most of all. He's the one that paid them to take her in the first place.

But how was he to know they planned on backstabbing him? What would he do if he found out their plan? As weird as it might sound, it's a comforting thought. He's a stranger, a guy she's only known for about a week, but...

Things just feel so right when she's around him...

Even his appearance, something she at first was so put off by, had started to grow on her. It was obvious he was a handsome man before, but even after the radiation took hold he still somehow held on to that charm.

He commands respect, but never demands it. He'll accept people for who they are and only asks they do the same, and he's so incredibly selfless that he'd risk his life to-

The image of him running into the burning building replays in her mind, and a familiar pain pricks at her heart. Avery closes her eyes, trying to block the intrusive images invading her mind. If he didn't make it out...

Why does it hurt so bad? Sure, he'd done a lot for her, but that doesn't change the fact that she'd hardly known him.

When Nate died, it was more like she'd lost something she was used to having around. She was sad, but the hurt she felt over losing Nate was nothing compared to this...

Her mind wonders to the last night she saw him...how close he was, how warm his body felt pushed against hers...

And why did that feel so...good?

Avery bites her lip in frustration. She doesn't have the time to be thinking about those sorts of things. Whatever her feelings may be, she needs to get find a way back to Hancock and the others.

She shoves the supply crates off herself before standing, careful not to trip, and pokes her head out of the window to try and get her bearings.

Mostly nothing, except, maybe some two miles away, she can make out the tiny silhouette of a small town.

Right next to the broken caravan is a worn down Red Rocket diner.

“Guess we'll just set up here. Getting late anyway.” Axel hates traveling at night.

The other men agree, and Avery finds herself feeling hopeful...

Maybe tonight's the night she can finally escape.

 

***

“It's been about five hours.” Allan says between bites of food. Not long after they'd set up camp, Darius had wondered off toward the town to scavenge for supplies to fix the caravan.

“Probably got himself lost.” Avery says as a matter of fact. Good riddance. 

Allan laughs, spitting out a few bits of chewed up food, “I wouldn't doubt it, the mans dumber than a Brahmin.”

Axel just shrugs. “All I know is if he does come back, he's not getting shit to eat. Took us three hours just to get this much wood to start a fire. He's hungry, he can start his own.”

“Poor bastard would starve first. Place doesn't have shit worth shit.”

He's not wrong. When they first got stranded they'd all but torn the Red Rocket apart looking for anything that could help them repair the caravan.

There wasn't a single useful thing in this place.

Now the three of them are sitting in the booths of the diner, eating overly salted meat when a dull thud draws all their attention.

It sounded like something hit the outside of the diner.

“Well, speak of the devil,” Allan scoffs. “Bout damn time. You bring anything back?”

When no reply comes, Axel tries “Darius?”

But only silence meets his question.

“God dammit,” Allan shoves himself out of the booth, the legs protesting with a loud screech. “Cut the crap, Darius!”

He grabs his gun and heads out through the door.

Leaving just her an Axel left in the diner.

Every now and again, she'd catch him glances at her, and at first it had seriously creeped her out. Three men traveling with a single woman they planned on selling off? It was questionable at best.

But now, it's just getting annoying.

“What?” She finally asks.

“Huh?”

“I'm not blind, you keep looking at me. What do you want?”

Axel swallows his food and opens his mouth as if to say something, but then thinks better of it.

“Okay, or don't.”

“I...” he looks at the door to make sure no ones in earshot, then leans over the table She has to strain her ears to hear his next words. “I don't want to do this. The guys they...they plan on selling you to a bunch of slavers, and I...I can't”

Avery leans back in her chair, trying to act nonchalant, even though her hearts suddenly beating in her ears. 

“I know.” Is all she says.

“You knew?”

“You guys weren't exactly quiet about it when Darius dragged me away...”

“I...” he looks away. “I'm sorry...I just- I got people back home and I...the money they're offering for you...I could give them everything I never had, and then some...”

“And yet, here you are, telling me. Why?” She tries to keep her voice confident. If she plays her cards right...

“Do you have any idea what people like that would do to a girl like you?” He shakes his head “I...I can't be a part of that. You need to-” 

“Axel,” Allens sudden yell makes them both jump. “Axel, get out here, quick!” 

“God dammit.” He pushes out of the booth, then turns to Avery. “Don't run, not yet. Just...trust me?”

She allows herself to look at the man in front of her. To really look at him...

He hasn't given her any reason to trust him...but by this point trusting him is all she's got.

“Fine.”

He shoots her a small smile, probably meant to be reassuring as he gently grabs her by the arm, and guides her outside.

“Allen?” Axel calls out as they exit the diner.

“Over here.”

They follow his voice around the corner of the Red Rocket where Allen is staring into a patch of overgrown grass.

He looks up when he sees them coming and motions for Axel to come over.

He gives her a quick glance, a silent warning not to run before he goes over to Allen.

“Holy shit...”

“That's what I said. What now?”

Normally Avery couldn't care less about their problems, but the way they're acting... her curiosity is starting to get the better of her.

She takes a tentative step forward, expecting one of the two to say something, but when neither of them do, she walks over and peers into the grass.

Laying on the ground, covered in blood is Darius decapitated head.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People are still reading this? Wow! Thanks guys, I'm honestly, genuinely surprised people have stuck with me this far, and all those wonderful comments, thank you!
> 
> Also, I wasn't sure how I should go about these next few chapters. Should I make long chapters to spend less time on this part, or short chapters but more time? I ended up going wtih shorter chapters, as I feel it helps the story flow better. :)

She's dreamed about staring down at his lifeless corpse hundreds of times in the few short days she's known him.

Thought about killing him herself a few times too.

And here she is, living that fantasy for real, staring at all that remains of that pathetic excuse of a man.

The only thing staring back are two bloody holes where his eyes once were. His mouth is open in a silent scream, a mirror of what his last moments alive must have been like.

It almost brings a smile to her face.

“We need to get back inside.” Axel is the first to speak up.

“Get back inside? Are you stupid? We need to get the hell outta here.” Allen's now pacing back and forth.

“With what? Your caravans still broken.” Whatever did this knows they're here. Staying is dangerous, but if they leave, she'll only be farther away from Hancock...

“Fuck the caravan. We got you.” Allan grabs her roughly by the arm, and she can almost feel the bruises she's sure will be there next time she looks. “Girls like you fetch a pretty high price in the market. Higher than anything that caravan could get us.”

Somewhere close by, a keep wail pierces through the air, the sound hitting a pitch so high it almost hurts her ears.

“What the hell was that?!” She pushes her back against the diner, peering into the darkness for any sign of life.

She's never known an animal to make a sound like that.

“Ah, fuck.” Allen curses.

“What? What is it?”

Axel grabs her by the arm, and signals for her to be quiet.

A low growl vibrates the air right on the other side of the diner.

“We need to get the hell out of-” A giant hulking animal leaps out from the shadows, tackling Allen to the ground.

It snaps at his face, but he uses his arm as a shield, and Avery can hear the snapping of his bones as the dog like creature bites down hard. Allans cries for help as the hound steps on his chest, breaking more bones before sinking it's teeth into his throat.

His screams turn into gurgled cries as it crushes his windpipe. His flailing limbs begin to slow as his body loses blood, but the creature doesn't stop. It sinks it's teeth back into his flesh, this time grabbing hold of his face.

Only when it's sure Allan is dead, does it let go, turning it's attention to her and Axel.

“Let's go,” Axel pleads. 

She can't take her eyes off of it; blood dripping from it's maw, teeth so big they protrude from it's jaw. The muscles in it's body ripple with every movement, it's almost as if it's skin has life of it's own. It's as if her feet are rooted to the ground as it takes a step toward her, another growl vibrating in it's throat.

Every instinct in her is telling her to move, to scream.

“Let's. Go!” His words are more of a hiss. 

She wants to run.

But her body just...won't.

All she can do is tremble as the giant, mutated dog crouches down.

And pounces. 

She can feel the spray of blood splatter across her face, soaking her clothes.

“Jesus Christ, no wonder you almost died before. You can't just fuckin stand there when there's a god damned mutant hound charging at you!” Axels somehow now in front of her.

Avery looks down to see the dog at her feet, a giant gaping wound slashed across it's throat. Thats when she noticed the machete in Axels hands, covered in blood. 

“It's really weird for a mutant hound to be on it's own.”

“Why?”

A gunshot fires off, followed by the sound of a bullet ripping into the wall of the diner.

“KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL!” The shouts of super mutants come from somewhere to their left.

“Get down!” Axel pulls her down into the brush where they're hidden. What are they suppose to do? Of course she could just run, and hope the super mutants don't catch her. But her eyes wonder over the corpse of the dog, and there's not a doubt in her mind that they'd take her out before she made it ten feet.

Axel turns to her, “On the side compartment of the caravan there's a whole stash of weapons. Can I trust you with a gun?”

She nods.

“Okay. Get inside the diner, hide. Wait for me there, got it?”

“Got it.”

“Okay...go!” He takes off running to the caravan as she heads to the diner.

But not before grabbing the shotgun Allan always had, parading around with it like some type of trophy.

Not like he'll need it anymore.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll a lot of you said you'd rather long chapters, so after this one, the next one is a bit longer, enjoy! :)

Avery darts inside the diner, nearly tripping on a knocked over stool. The dim candle was the only light she had to go by, and even that hardly made a difference.

Outside she could hear gunshots going off in the distance as the super mutants charged forward. So far, the odds weren't in their favor, even if they had an idea of how many they were up against. Avery holds tightly onto the shotgun in her hand and steadies herself before squinting outside the broken window of the Red Rocket.

Axel's almost made it to the caravan where spare ammo and guns were stored. Some hundred feet away, she was able to make out the faint silhouettes of the super mutants, the soft glint of their own firearms reflecting in the moonlight. They were closing in on him fast, and unless she did something...

Using the window frame for support, she takes a deep breath before taking aim.

Click.

She pulls the trigger again.

Click. Click.

The recoil she'd been expecting doesn't come, just the sound of an empty gun, the bullets probably locked away with the rest of the ammunition on the caravan. Fuck!

“Axel!” She calls out, but he's too far away, the super mutants almost on him. She scans the diner, looking for anything that might help, knowing it's already been picked clean by scavvers over the centuries. Without a weapon to defend herself, it would be suicide to run out there.

“AXEL!” She tries again to warn him, but it's too late. They swarm him, and she hears him yell, sees him trying to fight his way out.

But one unarmed man is no match for a group of super mutants. They grab onto him, still kicking up a fight, and then begin dragging him to the Red Rocket Diner.

Fuck fuck fuck!

Avery runs behind the counter and finds a small cabinet that still has its doors and climbs inside. She barely has enough room to move, but it'll have to do.

Her heartbeat pounding in her ears is all she can hear for a few short minutes before the muffled voices of the mutants take over as they came closer.

And Axels smothered please for mercy.

“Stupid humans, always try to run. Super mutants too smart, you never get away.” One of them laughs.

“They think we dumb, but they dumb ones, right brothers?” The others echo out cheers of agreement.

“No, trust me, you're all a bunch of fucking idiots. Just hard to kill.” Axel quips, a small quiver in his voice. 

Through a crack in the door she's finally able to see how many there are. Four super mutants total, each holding on to one of Axels limbs, carrying him like a pig to the slaughter house. They slam him on a table, pinning him down.

“Shut up, dinner!” One of the mutants yell, and the others laugh. Avery's can't stop the soft gasp that escapes her lips. They plan to eat him?!

He was one of the assholes that stole her away, but he'd also tried to save her as well...would she be able to live with herself if she let him die, or would the guilt ride with her forever?

One of the mutants look to the cabinet she's hiding in and tilts his head, and for a second she thinks he might have heard her. She instinctively cowers away, but her back is already against the wall. Thats when her hand brushes over the cool metal of a butcher knife.

How had they'd missed it when searching the diner earlier? She grabs onto it and holds it tightly, her mind made up. He may be a lowlife, but he'd tried to make up for his wrongs; He didn't deserve the fate they had planned for him.

Her grip on the knife tightens, her knuckles turning white as she gently puts her hand on the door.

She swallows, getting ready to spring out and surprise the mutants when out of no where one grabs a Machete and arches it down. It cuts right through Axels flesh and digs deep into the table below, severing his arm clean off.

Avery's bites down hard on her lip, drawing blood, to suppress a scream. She watches as the super mutant takes another swing, this time cutting off his lower leg, all before Axel even has time to register his missing arm. 

The pain must finally hit. He lets out a loud, ear splitting scream, drawing smiles on the mutants faces as they take delight in his cries.

Again, the blade arches down into the flesh of his thigh, cutting off the rest of his leg. The dull thud as it hits the table. Their laughs. His screams. All she can do is watch in horror the super mutants decapitate him, limb by limb.

Already his screams have died down to nothing more than soft moans. By the time they cut off his last arm, he's already dead.

She'd had every intention of helping him, she really did...but then what? Was she suppose to fight off not one, but four super mutants while her only back up was laying on a table bleeding out from a lost arm?

And what is she suppose to do now? Hide in a cabinet while four psychotic, mutated freaks cannibalism another man? Fucking shit! 

She didn't know if she was angry, scared or just...tired. She used to complain about her life, her old life, and how boring it was. She'd bitch to Nate about all these things she wanted to do, like go sky diving or go on an exotic vacation, or some other bullshit. Now...Jesus, she didn't know what to do now.

A bitter smell assaults her nose, bringing her back to the present. Somewhere along the line, while she was lost in her train of thought, the super mutants had made a fire and were...oh god. They're cooking Axel. They're fucking cooking his arm over a fire!

The scent that had only seconds ago smelled almost enticing now made her stomach turn. She has to work to control her breathing, the sudden onset of claustrophobia making her hyperventilate. She wants to burst through those doors and run, but her eyes land on Axels corpse, or whats left of it. 

If they caught her...no. She didn't want to end up like that. 

The smell of burning flesh is...like nothing she's ever smelt before. Pungent, but with a sweet undertone that makes her stomach knot. 

Easy. Breath, you need to breath. You've made it through worse, you can make it through this. She repeats the words in her head like a mantra, and slowly her breathing calms down. 

She'll be fine. She'll wait them out. They couldn't plan to stay here forever, and maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't touch the Caravan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually started to like Axel.... :(


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing these next few chapters. :) Little bit longer than the last few, but you guys asked, and I aim to please.
> 
> Also, if anyone is curious, I've just reached 81 pages on my writing program for this story, hell yeah!

Never once in her life would she have ever expected she'd be as desperate for food as she is at this moment. Avery breaths in, willing her stomach to settle, then peers into the can to stare at the gelatinous mass one last time before throwing her head back, letting the last of the canned dog food slide down her throat.

She'd found it stashed away in one of the super mutants satchels the other night when they'd all gone outside. That and some water in a dingy container that burned her throat when she drank it. She'd grabbed the can in a hurry, mistaking it for actual food before rushing back to her hiding spot just as the super mutants returned.

Imagine her disappointment when hours later, they leave again, finally giving her time to enjoy her first meal in over a day, and finding out it's in fact dog food. She'd set it aside, having no intention of actually eating it, but the following morning when the hunger really hit her, the knots in her stomach making her nauseous...well, she didn't have much choice.

If Avery wanted to get out of here alive, she needed to eat. That meant anything she could get her hands on. It's been hell...almost three days since she crawled into this god forsaken cabinet, and each minute that passed, the more lucky Allan had seemed. His death was relatively quick, mostly painless. Especially compared to Axel, whose body is still on full display right where he died. 

Between the stench of a rotting corpse, her own urine soaked clothes, the confining place she's been forced into, and the constant fear she felt, it's a wonder she hasn't gone insane. 

Maybe today would have been the day she finally did herself in, but instead, she watches through the cracks as the super mutants drag the contents of the caravan into the diner, most of them containing nothing more than useless trade.

Except...that one! She spots the black metal trunk Axel had told her about, the one holding all the guns and ammunition.

Maybe even the pistol Hancock had given her.

She'd expected something...smaller. Maybe two or three guns and couple boxes of ammo, but this thing was almost the size of her.

If she can get to that box, then maybe, just maybe, she's got a shot at getting out of here. Of course she has a plan, albeit a reckless one that could possibly get her killed, but a plan none the less.

She'd tried not to think about Strong, the super mutant Hancock had killed back in Goodneighbor. It survived a bullet point blank to head...if these were anywhere near as resilient as that one, her chances at surviving dropped somewhere close to zero.

But the alternatives were no better. If she died, she wanted to die fighting, not starving to death in some cabinet, covered in her own piss.

For now, she just has to wait.

 

***

Fahrenheit had said super mutants were less active late in the night, and now she understood why. Every night around the same time, 2am, if she had to guess, they lay down to rest for a short period. They don't sleep long, but when they do, they go down hard.

“That my spot!” One of them yells at another whose lounging in the only upright booth.

“No, this my spot tonight, you sleep on floor.”

“No, that my spot. I am leader, and I say get out!!” He slams his fists on the table, but the other mutant refuses to budge.

It's a routine Avery's become used to. Every night they argue about who gets the booth, but it always ends the same way.

The self proclaimed “Leader” yanks the instigator roughly out of the booth, and a loud thud shakes the diner floors as he hits the ground.

“I said you sleep on floor!!”

“Shut up!” One of the others yell as the losing mutant grumbles his way to it's usual spot in the corner.

Avery sits patiently in the corner, running the plan through her head, as if repeating it will somehow make it successful. It's not long before the sounds of heavy snoring rattle through the diner; her queue to act.

She slowly pushes the cabinet door open, cringing slightly as the old, rusted hinges creak at the movement. This is the first time she's stepped foot outside while the mutants were still around, and her heart is pounding in her chest. The palms of her hand are slick with sweat, causing her grip on the knife to tighten in compensate.

From being hidden away under the counter for so long, her eyes are already accustomed to the darkness, but even so, she scans over the diner, making a mental note of each and every piece of scrap on the floor so as not to trip. 

Avery's eyes finally land on the metal box sitting in the corner. She curses under her breath, of course it would be on the opposite end of the exit...

She could just leave without it. Are those weapons really worth her life? But how would she make it through the wasteland without them? And Goodneighbor...those guns could be a game changer...

If there's still a Goodneighbor left to defend, that is.

Walking as quietly as possible, she makes her way over to the box, passing a sleeping super mutant. His loud snores have her on edge. If it wakes up the others...no, she can't second guess herself now. Be careful, be quiet, get the shit and leave. A simple, easy plan.

Using her arms for balance, she squeezes around the table where the box sits and wraps her arms as far around the giant trunk as she could.

Which isn't very far. It has to be around three feet in length and at least two feet wide. If it's size is any indication, then it probably weights a ton too. As it slides completely into her arms, her legs buckle slightly under the weight, she struggles to keep herself upright. The idea of dragging the box, along with her weighted down backpack, all the way back to town makes her knees weak. 

But she'll manage. Even if she has to drag it the whole way, she'll get there.

Something inside the box shifts, and the soft sound of metal clicking against metal might as well sound like banging cymbals.

One of the super mutants shift in it's sleep, and she freezes. Only when it's soft, restless snores turn back into those of deep sleep does she dare to take a step.

Just as carefully, she tip-toes to the door and silently steps out into the night. As the cold air prickles her skin, the tightness in her heart eases ever so slightly. The hard part is out of the way.

But not even five feet out of the door, and one of the mutants grunt, causing her to freeze.

He can't see me, he can't see me, he can't-

“Hey!” She jumps, dropping the trunk where it's contents spill over the ground. Behind her, the mutants heavy foot steps thud after her.

Then her eyes land on something.

A grenade. 

Her arms dart out just as she's knocked to the ground, the weight of the mutant on top of her nearly crushing her.

Avery fights to turn herself on her back, flailing her arms in an attempt to free herself but the weight of the super mutants knee on her leg is all it takes to pin her down. 

Her fists connect with it's shoulder, but it may as well have been a loving caress for all the help it did. The only thing she did manage to do was piss it off more, it's nostrils flaring before he clasps his hands together, lifts them high, then slams his fists right into her chest.

White hot pain sears through her ribs, the re-broken bone sounding out with a sickeningly loud snap as the air is simultaneously knocked from her lungs.

A white light sparks in her vision, blinding her, as her body struggles for air.

But before her lungs can fill, a big hand covers her face and squeezes! The sudden pressure in her skull is unbearable, causing her to scream out as the hulking mutant tightens it's grip, it's hand shaking from the effort.

Her legs kicks out blindly, desperate to get away and her foot connects right between it's legs. Just like with her punch, it only serves to piss it off more, it's massive hands reach up, preparing another blow.

Acting on pure instinct, Avery reaches down at her belt loop and pulls out the butchers blade, her arms moving blindly as she buries it deeply into the super mutants throat. With more effort than she could have imagined, she slides it through it's flesh, carving a deep gash that leads up to it's skull.

Surprise registers in his eyes before it's hands fly to his throat, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding. It yells out, but it's words only come out as desperate gurgles while blood fills his throat. It rolls off her, fear and desperation replacing the surprise in it's eyes.

She gasps in, almost choking as the air burns her starving lungs. Her body barely has time to recover before she remembers there were more super mutants, who've already woken up to the commotion.

“BROTHER!” One roars out, rolling off the floor. “SHE KILLED BROTHER!” The others lunge for their weapons as the one charges to the door after her.

It's amazing how instinct can take over when your life is on the line, how fast you can react to something without really even thinking of it. 

She dives behind her, lunging for the grenade a few feet away. Her body barely registers the pain in her chest as she lands, hard, on the ground, her hand finding the explosive immediately. 

Praying for once the movies got something right, she yanks out the pin before flinging it behind her.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing these next few chapters, especially Fahrenheit's. She doesn't get enough love.

 

**Fahrenheit:**

 

“Hurry it up! It's been over a week, you should have had this job done days ago!” She yells out to the _young_ men sluggishly working the wall. If she were honest, it's been closer to two weeks than one, and between the three of them, they should have had no problem rebuilding the wall.

For fucks sake, even Avery worked faster than these guys. If that girl were still around, this job would have been done on day two. Of course she _tried_ to tell Hancock they should keep her around, but the stubborn ass had refused. Fahrenheit always knew his soft heart would fuck something up. Now he's...ah, fuck it.

Not many people knew, but Fahrenheit took pride in the town of Goodneighbor, or rather, what it's become.

She'd been around long before Hancock took over, back when Vic ran the place. She was there when the town was nothing but a slum where rape and slavery were common place. Yeah, it's no Diamond city, but fuck those upity pricks. It was a shelter for the outcast, criminals, the kind of people no one else wanted, but it was a town that took pride in it's people. 'Of the people, for the people' and all that shit.

But that was also part of the problem. People like this didn't get their hands dirty, most preferring a hired hand to do their grunt work.

Which is why Hancock had hired her, to keep things in check.

An orphaned slave girl turned second on command, and she did her job pretty damn well. Fahrenheit made a life for herself here in Goodneighbor and she'd be damned if she let some lazy shitheads screw that up.

“You,” she points to one of the idiots standing around, looking lost. “Start carrying bricks over for the others, Finn, lay down some clean cement, and you,” she points to a third guy, “lay on a new row of bricks. We need this wall done _today!_ ”

“How bout you get your sweet ass down here and help instead of bitching?” Finn growls back.

Fahrenheit grits her teeth. Finn didn't know it, but if it weren't for her, Hancock would have put him down months ago. Rumors were going around town that he was trying to set a hit out for Hancock, kill him then take the spot for himself.

But both of them knew no one in their right mind would take a job like that. He may only be an addict Mayor of a town full of criminals, but Hancock had sway all through out the Commonwealth. Nothing happened without him knowing.

Fahrenheit saunters over and picks up a sack full of bricks before flinging them at Finn. He grunts as they slam into his stomach, where they drop at his feet.

“You don't want me here, breathing over your shoulder, do you?” His lip curls in a sneer at her cocky grin and she _almost_ hopes he'll say something back. She may be the reason he's not six feet down, but that doesn't mean she didn't want to break that crooked fucking nose of his.

But like always, he doesn't say shit. The only people stupid enough to mess with Fahrenheit are the ones that don't know her yet. “Then get your ass moving!”

“Bitch.” He mumbles under his breath before bending down to pick up the sack of bricks she flung at him and starts hauling them over to the wall.

She rubs her hand through her short hair, sighing. They'd used the bricks from the burnt down building to rebuild the wall, and even fortify the gates, so at least something good came out of that. Now if only she could make sure these guys get the job done while seeing over everything else...

Or...

“Kleo!”

The robot sets the gun she's been busily cleaning down and struts over from behind the counter when Fahrenheit motions her over.

“What can I do for you, baby?” Her mechanic voice drawls out.

If any other person on this planet called her baby, they'd have a mouth full of broken teeth, but not even Fahrenheit would willingly go up against an Assaultron. “I need you to watch these guys, make sure they're not slacking.”

“You got it.” Her metallic hips twitch as she walks away.

Okay, now that that's out of the way...what else did she need to do? Yeah, right. Still need to see how well the traps are coming along.

“Fahrenheit! Hey!” She turns to the direction her name was called, and throws her arms up in exasperation when she sees who the voice belongs to.

“MacCready! What the hell, you're supposed to be laying down mines outside of town, what the fuck are you doing _here_?” She's had it up to here with chasing everyone around town, babysitting them. Bunch of fucking morons!

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but I have something you need to see.” He grabs her arm and practically drags her out of the front gate. “I laid _some_ mines down,” he points to a few hidden under pieces of scrap as he leads her down another alley way, where they make a sharp left. “I was doing my job, before you bitch, I mean complain, but check this out.”

He leads her into a run down building, an old bakery judging by the ancient neon sign hanging on the window.

The place is empty, already picked clean, except...

In the middle of the floor is a giant, black trunk.

“MacCready...” she warns.

“Shut up and open it, you'll shit- crap yourself!” he gestures once again at the trunk.

Fahrenheit shoots him one last look, a wordless warning that he better not be wasting her time before stepping over to unhook the clasps of the trunk.

Her eyes widen in surprise as she lifts the top open. “Holy shit, where did you find this?” Inside are enough weapons to arm the whole town, and then some.

“Right here. Am I good, or am I good?” The smug grin on his face is rightfully there. A smile of her own forms on her lips. This is...shit, this is exactly what they needed.

“Wait,” MacCready puts a hand on her shoulder. When she looks back at him, his grin is gone. “Did you hear that?”

She listens, but hears nothing.

“No, what-”

“Shh!” He cuts her off. Fahrenheit stands, straining her ears for whatever MacCready may have heard.

And there it is.

A soft groan, coming somewhere from behind the counter.

“'Cready.” She whispers, gesturing him over. He holds the gun up, finger on the trigger and steps cautiously over to her.

Fahrenheit raises a finger, telling him to wait a minute before peering over the counter.

“Are you fucking serious...” Her jaw practically drops before soft laughter bubbles out of her mouth.

“What?” He asks as he lowers his gun and heads over. He takes one questioning look at Fahrenheit before leaning over the counter to look for himself. “ Well, I'll be damned...”

Staring up at them is Avery. Bruised and more than a little banged up, but alive.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE writing from Hancocks POV. I try giving each character their own writing style, and his is one of my favorites (other than Fahrenheit, she was fun too.)
> 
> So here, have seven pages of Hancock.

**Hancock**

 

Hancock leans back in his chair, popping a berry flavored mentats capsule between his teeth, flicking over it a few times with his tongue before swallowing. The familiar tingling in his head takes effect almost instantly as clarity starts to push away the fog in his mind.

He taps a rhythm on the table in front of him with his boot clad feet, agitated.

The list of shit that needed to get done grows day by day. Town needs ammo, medical supplies, medical _attention,_ guns, food, and not to mention how much crap needed rebuilding. And here he is stuck in his office.

Sighing, he pushes off from the upholstery to...to what? Pace the room some more?

Looks like it.

He saunters over to the corner of his office where a cracked mirror hangs on the wall.

 _Guess that's another plus I can add to perks of bein' a ghoul._ Hancock thinks to himself, while staring at his reflection. The burns on his face are healing, the scars almost invisible, blending in with his already reddened, damaged skin, but the peeling...Jesus.

He feels like a fuckin' prepubescent Mirelurk, shedding all over the damn place. All in all it isn't too bad, considering; mostly the left side of his face and some on the shoulder, but still. The Doc said he should let it heal on it's own, let the blisters scab over and not to pick, but fuck that. He had a town to run, a war to fight, no way he could go walking around looking like a molting crustacean.

He had a reputation to uphold.

So he taped a piece of medical gauze over the giant blister covering a portion of his cheek.

 _There! Now_ that's _badass._ Hancock snorts at his own thought, then winces.

His arm, though, was a different story. Not long after he ran into that burning building like a maniac, shit started going downhill. Damn thing collapsed, a giant hunk of metal pinning him down on his way out.

“Mr. Hancock!” The little girl had cried out, trying to move the steel beam herself.

“Get outta here! Go find your brothers an' hide!” He'd shooed her away, but the little girl stood her ground, refusing to leave as the fire spread around them. He had to admit, for a six year old, that damn kid had more balls than half the grown men he'd known, Hancock himself included up until a few years ago.

He'd tried a few more times, even going as far as threatening her if she didn't leave, but no matter what, the little girl wouldn't budge.

And maybe that's what did it.

He'd always been a sucker for kids, and with those little doe eyes staring back at him, he couldn't let her down. Somehow, he's still surprised himself, he managed to wiggle out from under the beam. Broke his arm and got some nasty burns on his hand in the process, but nothing too serious.

Back to the point, though. A busted arm covered in a cast didn't exactly exude 'power'.

Thank whatever God might be up there that his frock covered up _that_ eyesore.

Still though, it limited his mobility more than he liked to admit. Hancock peered out the window where his guys were working on the wall and cursed under his breath. He was never the type to sit on his ass and let others do his work for him, not his style.

Work was slow, morale was low, hell, that ambush got _him_ feeling like shit too, but it didn't change the fact that things needed to get done. He'd be out there himself helping if he could.

Maybe he'd call a meeting later, try and get the spirits back up. Hancock's got charisma, he knew that much; may as well put it to good use.

Something catches his eye, and he squints trying to get a better look.

Fahrenheit. She's got something, or rather _someone_ in her arms, bridal style. Behind her, MacCready follows tail, carrying some big ass trunk.

He adjusts the tricorne atop his head before settling back in his chair.

 _I don't got time for this shit._ He thinks to himself, rubbing his temples. Probably another scavver that got jumped by a bunch of mutants.

But when Fahrenheit finally bursts through his doors, he has to do a double take to make sure the drugs aren't fucking with his brain.

“Why the hell is she here?!” Hancock looks at the woman in Fahrenheits arms in disbelief. He'd seen her leave, shit may have hit the fan, but he knows what he saw, so then why...

“Ask her yourself.” Fahrenheit sets Avery down on the couch in front of him. The edge in her voice tells Hancock she's pissed.

Avery lets out a soft groan when she hits the couch, her hand going up to her chest. A tightness forms in Hancocks chest at the pained expression that contorts her normally carefree face, one he's all too familiar with; guilt.

And something else...pain? It's the second time in a month he's seen this poor gal suffer. That's the whole reason he sent her away in the first place, so he'd never have to see that look on her face again.

And yet, here she was.

“Jesus, Kid, what happened?”

“We-” she groans again, clutching her ribs tighter. He reaches for a nearby med-x, uncaps it.

“I don't think it's broken,” he presses lightly against her bruised flesh, “but hold still.” Hancock whispers before plunging the tip into her side.

Her back arches slightly at the sting of the needle before she relaxes. While he waits for the medicine to numb the pain, he turns his attention to the other man.

“MacCready, what the hell is that?”

He shrugs, “found her with it.”

He sets the trunk down, and it lands with a thud; damn thing looks heavy.

Avery opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out, She points to her lips, mouths the words, “water, please.”

Hancock looks her over, and notices the red tint in her skin, an early sign of rad poisoning. Girls been through the ringer, all right.

He grabs her a container of purified water, pours a bag of rad away in it, then returns.

“Gonna taste like shit, but trust me, it'll help.”

She grabs the water from him, drinks it greedily, not even seeming to care about the taste. Within minutes, her smooth skin begins to return to it's normal pinkish glow.

“T-thank you.” Her voice is raspy.

“Welcome, Sister. Now let me hear it, what happened?”

She looks at the wall, refusing to look at him.

“Go ahead, tell him.” Fahrenheit urges her, and something in her voice gives Hancock the impression she's already heard the story.

Avery adjusts herself so she's sitting upright, getting more comfortable. “We were a few miles out, about two days worth when the caravan broke down, near a Red Rocket.” She licks her lips, takes a breath. “Super mutants jumped us, killed them all. I hid away in a cabinet,” her voice takes on a hard edge “ For _two_ days. I watched them butcher a man alive, I watched them...” her voice quivers a little, her next words a whisper. “ It doesn't matter...”

Hancock swallows, opening his mouth to apologize, but closes it. Sorry wouldn't mean shit at a time like this.

“Tell him what they were going to do.” Fahrenheits cold voice makes Hancocks skin stand on end.

He catches her glance in his direction, uncertainty etched in her face. “They planned on selling me to slavers...” she finally mutters.

Hancocks eyes widen before narrowing into dangerous slits. He was always one step ahead of everyone else, no one so much as took a shit without him knowing, and yet...His fists squeeze shut, knuckles turning white with anger.

He didn't get mad often, but when he did, God help those who pissed him off.

Hancock knew what super mutants were capable of. Sadistic fucks who got off torturing others, but whatever hell they put those scumbags through was nothing compared to what he would have done.

_Lucky sons-a-bitches got off easy..._

“Fahrenheit. MacCready.” He meets each of their gazes before nodding toward the door.

He watches their backs as they leave without question, neither wanting to be the subject of Hancocks rage.

When the doors close behind them, his eyes wander down to the woman sitting in front of him, and just the sight of her is enough to dull the fires burning inside him.

Relief takes it's place instead. Relief that she's alive, that she's...back.

He didn't want to admit it, but after she left things felt...off.

Even with all the shit going down, his mind still found time to wonder back to her. Avery ain't the type of girl who would stand out among the crowd, but if you were lucky enough to give her a second look, well, you'd see somethin' special.

And yeah, he second guessed his decision on sending her away; more times than he could count.

Truth be told, Hancock had considered letting her stay. She did what needed doing, no questions asked. Had a good head on her shoulders too, might need to work on her combat skills, but that would come with time.

Hell, even Fahrenheit had taken a liking to the girl, so yeah, he _did_ plan on letting her stay.

But that was before he got drunk and almost...ah, never mind. Point is, he didn't need any more distractions, and Avery is one hell of a distraction.

But now that she's here, sitting right in front of him, his mind is playing a different tune. He takes a spot next to her, dully aware of the tingle of electricity that seems to prick at his skin at the heat from her body.

Ignore it.

“I-,” he searches around for the right words, but his mind still draws a blank. “I'm sorry,” he settles with.

When her eyes finally do land him, the blame he sees there nearly tears a hole right through his heart. “Sorry?” She scoffs. “Listen, Hancock, I'm an adult, I pay my bills, I do my taxes, I can make my own damn decisions. I know what I want, and I _wanted_ to stay here. But you-”

“I-” He tries, but she cuts him off.

“No!” She bits her lip, fights back the tears that prick at the corners of her eyes. The tightness in his chest grows “I know damn well what could happen if I stay, but let me tell you, _Mayor,_ ” the way she says it, like the word is poison on her lips. “Death isn't the worst thing that could happen to someone.”

And it hits him. This woman in front of him may as well be dead already. She lost her husband, her son; everything that makes life worth living. She wakes up, two-hundred years later, into some fucked up world where everything wants to kill her, and then she finds a place willing to take her in.

And what does he do? Sends her away.

No wonder she's so...what? Pissed? Hurt? She trusted him...and he- he fucked up. More than fucked up.

Hancock puts a gentle hand on her shoulder and she looks up at him, tears starting to spill over her emerald eyes.

“Tell me you didn't know...?” Her voice is a hoarse whisper, and the tightness in his chest turns into a burning pain.

“You gotta know I had no idea they were planning on-” he can't bring himself to say the words, doesn't want to think about it, “but...that doesn't make it better. I fucked up...bad. ”

The hard edge in her gaze softens at his words.

“I know...you were trying to help, it's just...Jesus Christ,” she shakes her head. “I thought I was gonna- for fucks sake, you shot one square in the head and it didn't even fall, and I... I'm just...” She laughs, a hollow sound. “I'm not cut out for this.”

Hancock had always been bad at these types of situations. Hell, he didn't even know how to handle his own emotions half the time, what could he hope to do for someone else?

“You know,” he leans back in the couch, which creaks under his weight. “I been up against some scary shit, growing up in the commonwealth, but being cornered by four super mutants? Not sure I'da lived to tell that tale.”

It was meant as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but it didn't seem to do what he wanted.

He sighs.

“I'll be honest with you, Sister, I'm shit at these types of things, not the articulate type,” he reaches over to the table and finds what he's looking for. “ But I'm good at self medicatin'” He shakes a canister of jet, the liquid sloshing around as he offers it to her.

She scrutinizing look she gives him makes him wonder if he just fucked up more. “I just went through hell, and you're offering me drugs?”

“It's how I cope.” He shrugs.

And that does it. A shimmer of light returns to her eyes, and his time, the soft laugh that trickles past her lips is one-hundred percent genuine. The sound makes his heart do a little flip, as a contented smile appears on his own withered lips. It's weird to admit, but every smile or laugh he pulls out of her is almost like a praise; makes him feel like a kid again.

Her brow quirks up, almost uncertainly, when she asks, “Wouldn't happen to have weed, would you?”

“Weed? Ain't that slang for...ah, fuck, whats it called?” He racks his brain, the word at the tip of his tongue...

“Marijuana.” She says for him. He laughs.

“Sister, that shit died out when the bombs went off, but this,” he waves the jet in front of her, “pretty much the same thing. At least, that's what Daisy says. Who knows.”

Her eyes search his own, looking for reassurance, and Hancock sways under her gaze. All this eye contact- it does things to a ghoul.

“Fuck it.” She takes the canister, his skin lighting up as her hand brushes against his own. “You're trouble, Hancock, you know that?”

“I can say the same for you, too, Sister. Now watch.”

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting some serious writers block here, and I feel like my writings suffering from it. May need to set this one down for a few days, maybe read a few fics of my own. Don't worry though, I got 3 extra chapters prewriten, you guys won't even notice I'm gone. Lol

 

“I can say the same for you, Sister. Now watch.” Hancock holds the jet up to his mouth, pressing the control. There's a soft hiss as the gas escapes, and she watches as his chest expands when he breaths the drug in. Something about the simple action makes her heart do a weird _ba-da-dump._

It's weird. The whole way back, the only thought she'd been able to concentrate on was giving Hancock a piece of her mind the second she stepped through the gates. For sending her away, for making her worry. A large part of her even blamed him for things he couldn't possibly have control over, like that they were going to sell her, or for getting ambushed.

But as soon as she saw him her resolve started to waiver. It had taken him only a few words, some ill placed jokes, and the anger she desperately clung to dissipated.

“Easy, yeah? Here.” He hands her the canister, then breaths out a cool plume of smoke that caresses over her skin, tingling as it goes.

Avery looks down at the jet, still a bit unsure. The pain in her ribs had already left, thanks to whatever miracle drug Hancock had given her, but the exhaustion...fuck, she'd be down for a while once her head finally hit the pillow.

Almost as if he senses her hesitation, Hancock places his hand over her own, the rough texture of his skin sends an electric shock through her body. Slowly, he guides the canister to her parted lips, where she takes the tip into her mouth, just like she's seen him do many times before.

“When I press down, it might tingle. Just breath in, and hold.”

She closes her eyes as the hiss of cool air fills her mouth, bringing with it a strange, bitter taste that makes her tongue tingle, just like he'd said.

Hancock only holds the plunger down for a few seconds before releasing it, a small hit for her first time. She breaths in, taking the fumes deep into her lungs, and counts from one, releasing her breath only when she gets to ten.

The air is just as cool coming up as it was going down, tickling her throat slightly, making her cough. She winces at the dull throb of pain in her ribs, but when her eyes open, Hancock is staring at her, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Well?” He asks.

Avery blinks, her eyes suddenly feel buggy. “I feel...” She holds her arms out in front of her, an action that should only take a second seeming like minutes. “Whoa.”

He chuckles. “I guess that's one way to put it.”

She laughs, lounging back on the couch, her arms still swimming through the air in front of her. “Daisy was right- kind of. It's like weed on steroids. Shit, makes me feel like I'm back in collage.”

Hancock lights a cigarette, “It's a pretty short high, so enjoy it.” He reclines back in the couch, closing his eyes to enjoy the trip.

“Share?” She asks, her hand already outstretched. He side eyes her for a moment, takes a finale, deep inhale, then passes the smoke over.

It takes like twenty minutes for his hand to reach hers; at least it feels like it, anyway.

Avery takes a long, drawn out drag, enjoying the bitter sweet taste of nicotine. She follows Hancock, closing her eyes and enjoying the weightless feeling in her body. They sit in silence, doing a two puff pass until the cigarette runs dry.

By then, the jet has already started to wear off. The hours that seemed to have passed likely no more than ten minutes, tops.

“So,” Hancock starts. “I wasn't gonna ask, but I really wanna know. How did you make it outta there? And what the hell is in that trunk?”

“Why don't you go look?” She purposely ignores the first half of his question, not in the mood to recount the story.

If Hancock realized she dodged his question, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he stands from the couch, throwing the empty canister of jet at the trash bin where it misses, landing on the floor with a soft _tink_.

Avery closes her eyes again, even more tired than she was before now that the drug has run it's course.

The sound of the metallic clasps click as he unlocks the trunk, followed by “Holy shit!”

She grins, pride filling her at the sound of his surprise. That was something else she thought about on her way back, especially when she was on the verge of giving up, the trunk too heavy for her wounded body to carry.

_The look of shock on his face as he opened the trunk, the onset of regret at sending her away._

“Told you I can be useful,” the smugness carries over in her voice.

“You ain't kiddin. Damn, how did you even manage to- ...Wait.”

She looks over to him, where he's holding up a shiny metal box. He opens it, and Avery already knows what he'll find.

A block of velvet covered styrofoam, six imprints meant to house six grenades; one missing.

“Where's the last one?” He looks up, and her lopsided grin widens as his confused expression turns into understanding. “Don't tell me you...”

She winks at him.

“Well, fuck me.” He laughs, a sound of disbelief and awe. “I was startin' to get the impression I was wrong about you, but now- Jesus, remind me not to piss _you_ off.”

Avery watches as he shifts through the trunk, pulling out firearms ranging from simple pistols to shotguns, and even a few automatics.

_Just wait til ya get to the bottom._ Avery thinks to herself, eager to hear his reaction. It doesn't take long.

“Be still my beating heart,” Hancock drags out the hefty fat man, giving it a once over. “I think I'm in love.”

She looks over to him, “Don't get too attached, there. Couldn't find any ammo for the damn thing.”

“ I got some laying around.” He says matter of fact, then looks up to her, a warm smile on his face. “Listen, I don't say this type a thing often,” he fiddles with his hat, adjusting it on his head, “but I am one _damn_ lucky ghoul to have you as a friend.”

_Friend._ The word has her both elated, and disheartened all in one.

She means something to him... just not what she wanted.

And since when did she want more than that? Was there even a defining moment in the month she's been here that made her decide she wanted more, or was it a bunch of small things, adding up to this?

“Friend?” She searches his eyes, looking for...shit, she has no idea. But...

It's only there for a second, but it was there. Surprise flashed through his eyes, and something else. Something that was gone before she really had time to put a word to it.

“Well, I mean I-”

Banging at the door makes them both jump.

“Hancock, are you two done fucking around in there?” Fahrenheit calls from behind the closed doors. Avery finds her choice of words... interesting.

“God dammit, Fahr, what?”

“I know you got a trunk loaded with guns in there. Don't you think it's about time the rest of the town knows too?”

“Oh for fucks sake. Yeah, I'm gettin' there.” His narrowed eyes leave the door, returning back to her, softening as they do.

“You wanna do the honors?” He gestures to the doors of the balcony.

“Ah, no that's okay. I think they'd rather hear it from you, not to mention I have no idea what I'd say.”

“You think I go out there with a professionally written speech on neat little flash cards? ” He snorts. “Say whatever, they're an easy crowed.”

Hancock saunters over to the trunk, picking it up when Avery notices his arm. He hasn't moved it once since she's been here.

“You arm...what happened?” He looks down, surprised, almost as if he'd forgotten something was wrong with it in the first place.

“Eh, nothin I can't handle,” he states simply. But he must see the worry on her face, because he continues. “Broke it when I ran in to save that girl, Hannah. We both made it out, but just barely.”

A small sliver of guilt pinches in her chest. She'd completely forgotten to ask if the little girl had made it out alive.

“Here, let me help,” she goes over and grabs the other end, wincing at the movement.

“Heh, looks like we're both a little banged up, here, I got a better idea.” He turns his head toward the still closed doors. “Fahr!”

At first, there's no reply, but then her voice calls back, muffled. “What?”

“C'mere.”

Fahrenheit opens the doors, poking her head in before stepping through. “Yeah?”

“Gimme a hand, will ya?” Hancock gestures down to the trunk. Fahrenheit eyes the pair, at Hancocks broken arm and her own bruised ribs.

“Useless,” she huffs, picking up the trunk with ease. “Both of you.”

“Missed you too, Fahrenheit.” Avery smiles as the other woman shoots her a glare.

“Alright,” Hancock chimes in, opening the door to the balcony with his good arm. “It's showtime!”

The two woman follow him out onto the small balcony, a lot higher when you're actually on it. It's up here that she can finally see the full extent to the damage done to the town. The building that had caught fire the night she left was nothing more than rubble, debris littered the streets. Even the wall she'd painstakingly rebuilt was down again. Huge chunks of the gates surrounding the town lay on the ground, some missing completely.

“Hey!” Hancocks voice bellows out, and some nearby people stop what they're doing to look up.“Gather round!” Others who are out of earshot begin heading towards the balcony as they notice a crowd gathering.

Hancock gives the town a minute or two to assemble, a soft chatter floating among the people.

“So, I'm sure you all know my friend Avery, here.” It's the first time she's heard him say her name, and something about the way the word slides off his tongue sounds so...alluring. “Well, she's brought us a little _gift_. And she's got something to say, too.”

Avery freezes at the last of words. She never agreed to this, the hell? Her eyes scan over the faces of almost strangers now staring back at her, waiting for her to speak.

“I- uhm...” Shit. What can she say? These people don't know her, and as far as they're concerned, she's nothing but an outsider.

Hancock nudges her hip, silently urging her on.

“So... I know a lot of you think I'm just a freeloader, and I don't blame you. I just kind of showed up out of the blue-”

“Yeah, and you hightailed it outta here just as quick.” A woman calls out.

“I- Yes, but that wasn't my choice.” Her voice doesn't carry over well, practically a whisper.

“Bullshit.” Another guy yells out. Disapproving murmurs fill the crowd, echoing the mans words.

“Hey, hey, listen.” But her words are lost among the thrum of their complaints as they grow restless. “LISTEN!” She shouts out, and that seems to at least quiet them down a little.

“That's a story for another time, okay? But, right now, you all need to listen.” The whispers die down, but the criticizing looks on their faces stay.

“Believe it or not, I've come to like this town, and no matter what happens from here out, I'm here to stay.” She reaches down, unclasps the trunk, and holds up a shotgun. “And I think it's about time I start pulling my weight.”

Whispers start echoing in the crowd, a few clips of sentences reaching her ears.

“Where did she...”

“Who cares, we need..”

“Whats one shotgun going to..”

“Will ya'll shut up and let the girl talk?” Hancocks' voice is barely above normal volume, but it does the trick. The noise below them stops instantly.

“Do you really think I'd come back with just one gun?” She calls out, her voice louder as her confidence grows.

“C'mon, guys, I'm new, not dumb. Here,” she leans over the balcony, dropping the gun into the hands of a man below. He catches it as she reaches back down to grab another gun, tossing it to a woman in the back.

As she passes out firearms to the people below, Hancock addresses the rest of the crowd. “Now I know shits been bad the last couple o' months, but things are about to change. The next time those sons-a-bitches show their faces, we'll be ready, and you can thank this gal right here.” A few people whistle out in praise, and Hancock growls under his breath.

“I'm not done, yet, damn it. Hold on.” They slowly quiet down, and he waits until the last of the noise dies before continuing. “Now you all should know by now, I'm all about my p's and q's, so next time you pass this little miracle on the streets, I want each and every one of you sorry bastards to show some gratitude. You feel me?”

This time the whole town bursts out in cheers at the mayors words, those already armed with guns pumping them into the air, a few calling out her name, others shouting out 'thank you's.

Hancock nudges her again and beckons her inside with the wave of his hand, an approving smile on his face. She glances out over the masses, a smile of her own stretching ear to ear before following him.

Fahrenheit stays behind, passing out the rest of the weapons as the two head inside. Even behind closed doors, the roar of the crowd can be heard.

Hancock slaps a hand on her back. “You handled that good, Sister.”

“I'm still kinda pissed at you for throwing me out there like that,” she quirks a brow at him, caving under the pride in his eyes.

She does something unexpected, throwing her arms around the man in a tight hug, burring her face into the slit of bare skin on his chest; the sweet, earthy scent of him filling her senses. “But thank you.”

His body tenses for a moment before he wraps his good arm around her in a light embrace.

A sudden yawn has her reluctantly pulling away as she hides her mouth behind her hand.

“You should probably get some rest.” Hancocks hand lingers on her shoulder before trailing down her arm as he pulls away himself.

“Yeah, a bed sounds great. Been sleeping on the ground for the last few weeks, my backs killing me.”

“Well, hey, if it's a bed you need, mines always open.” Hancock winks at her. A myriad of images dirty enough to make a hooker blush flash through her mind at his joke.

It _was_ a joke, wasn't it? She laughs awkwardly, racking her brain for something suave to say.

“Tempting, but my goal here is to sleep.” She lets the innuendo soak in her words.

Flirting. Not her forte.

“Heh, can't blame a guy for trying.” He digs around his pocket, fishing out a cigarette. She considers bumming another off him, but decides it's better to leave things where they are.

For now.

As she's walking out of the office, Avery swears she can feel the mayors gaze following her out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now is a good time to mention I may or may not have a secret fetish for pining. 
> 
> MORE PINING!
> 
> (also I've decided there will be smut in later chapters. Warning will be posted beforehand. Tips welcomed, wish me luck. ahaha)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo...uh, hey! I know I said I'd only be gone for a while, but my flashdrive (where I keep the story) decided to corrupt all my files, deleting six VERY lengthy chapters, so...yeah. But we're back on track now, and heads up I probably won't be updating as often as I was(since I have to retype everything. Hate doing that), probably once a week now, but I'll try to be consistent. Enjoy! :)

 

Avery rubs the sleep from her eyes, the light shinning in the room showing it's well into morning. The normal chatter among the Neighborhood Watch nowhere to be heard.

Everyone must be out already, doing their part to rebuild the town; something she should be doing as well. God, what she wouldn't give for a working alarm clock, her body still not used to waking up at the ass crack of dawn, despite that seeming to be the norm around here.

The cool air of the room prickles at her bare legs as she steps out of the bed onto the hard wooden floor. Her body aches, still sore from the long trek back to Goodneighbor from yesterday, but that doesn't change the fact that there's things that need to be done.

Dressing is more of a chore than usual, but she manages, slipping into worn out jeans and a ratty old shirt; clothes fit for work. Grabbing whatever things she thinks she may need, and shoving them in her bag, she rushes through the door.

It isn't until she's halfway down the hall, making her way to the spiral staircase, that she hears the first clips of words.

“...bullshit.”

It takes her a minute to realize the voice is coming from the other side of Hancocks closed office doors. She intended on finding him so he could give her a list of what jobs needed to be done around town, but it looks like he's got his hands tied already.

Should she just wait for whoever was in there to leave, or should she just go find Fahrenheit, instead?

“That girl is trouble, I'm tellin' ya.” The words make her stop as she realizes it's her they're talking about.

She knew that voice, only heard it once before, but somehow it had stuck with her.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Finn, you sound like some paranoid kid.” Hancocks raspy voice is easy enough to hear, but his tone, it's as if this isn't the first time they're having this conversation.

“Don't tell me you buy that shit she tried feeding you about getting attacked, like hell that scrawny bitch could fight off four mutants by herself. How much you wanna bet she killed those scavvers herself and made off with their shit?”

Anger rises from the pit of her stomach, rushing forward. Her hand reaches for the handle on the door, ready to storm in and give that prick a piece of her mind, but logic wins out. If she barges in they'll know she was eavesdropping, and that would only be fuel on the fire in Finns eyes.

“Are you listenin' to yourself or you just spouting out whatever bullshit that pops into that peabrain a yours? Jesus, Finn...”

“You're getting soft on us, Hancock. You're lettin' people that got no business being here waltz around like they own the damn place. The way I see it, someone's gotta look out for this town.”

“And I'm saying she earned her keep. You saw what she hauled back with her, those guns are a game changer, so the way _**I**_ see it, is you should be on your knees thankin' her.”

“Really, Hancock? Don't think I don't see whats going on here. _”_ Each back and forth seems to raise in volume, and at this rate it won't be long until the whole town is privy to their argument; that is if a fight doesn't break out first. Avery can practically see the two men eyeing each other down through the closed doors, and the smug, prickish smile on Finns face as he continues to speak.

“A washed up junkie like you, and a girl like her? Not gonna happen, Hancock. And while you're busy chasing tail, someone's gonna come along and swipe that comfy job a yours right from under your nose.” He scoffs.

“That so?” Theres something about the simplicity of Hancocks words that makes them all the more dangerous; almost threatening.

The couch creaks as one of them stand and heavy boot steps thud along the floor boards inside the room, heading toward the door. Avery steps back, ready to play dumb when the sound stops. “Also, you might want to tell that bitch of yours not to eavesdrop while you're at it.”

A cold shiver runs down her spin.

Should she quietly slip away, pretend she was never there? She had to strain her ears just to hear them, so hell the hell had _he_ heard her?

The door opens and Finns shit eating grin is there to great her. A thousand excuses pass through her mind, but before she has a chance to voice them, he cuts in. “Anyone ever tell you you sound like a herd of brahmin when you walk?”

Her eyes narrow. It may be the exhaustion that seems to have become a permanent in her life, or maybe it's just too damn early to deal with his bullshit, but the frustration she's been biting back comes rushing up. It seeps into her words, adding a razor sharp edge. “Anyone ever tell you only pussies talk shit behind peoples backs?”

He doesn't bother to hide his eyes that trail up her body, lingering on the V of her shirt. “'Fraid not, sweetheart.”

And there's that fucking grin again. She opens her mouth to speak, but Hancock beats her to it.

“He was just about to leave, _right_ Finn?” The underlying tone speaks a message his words don't: Get the fuck out.

“Course I was, _Mayor._ ” He calls back, practically spitting the last word. His shoulder roughly butts against hers as he leaves, knocking her off kilter. “He's _alllllll_ yours, babydoll.” He coos, the heavy falls of his steps echoing in the halls, growing softer and softer as he descends the stairs.

Only when she hears the click of the door opening and closing does she move, stepping through the archway into Hancocks office. “Asshole.”

“You gotta be smart to be a asshole, Sister, that guy ain't got a working brain cell in his body.” He stands, grabs a capsule of some sort and pops it in his mouth. “So what can I do for ya?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing, actually.” She leans against a nearby table, trying to calm the anger still bubbling around inside. “Got any work that needs doing around town?”

He eyes her for a minute, his forehead creased in thought. “You sure you're up for that?”

She lifts a brow at him. Avery didn't have much experience getting her hands dirty, and not that she didn't appreciate his concern, but the last thing she needed was to be coddled. If she had any hope of carving a life for herself, the sooner she got over that, the better.

“I'm sure.”

Hancock rubs at the back of his neck, something she's come to notice he does when thinking. “Don't have much. Been meaning to take inventory; guns, ammunition, medical supplies? You want it, you got it. Easy work.”

“Are you asking me to do it _because_ it's an easy job, or because it needs to get done?”

“Little bit of both.” He must have caught the look she shot him, because he adds. “Hey, look, I know you wanna help, but I ain't the type a guy to let an injured person, and a woman none the less, to do grunt work.”

“You don't have a problem letting Fahrenheit get her hands dirty. I mean, I appreciate it, but I want to start pulling my weight. You heard what Finn said. Whose to say he's the only one thinking it?”

“Fahrenheit doesn't have a broken rib-”

“It's healed enough.” She cuts him off.

Hancock shakes his head, “Don't change a thing. And fuck Finn, I should a put a blade through his gut months ago when he- ...nevermind, point is, I don't need you getting any more hurt than you already are.”

“I took down four super mutants, and hauled a fifty plus pound trunk some twenty miles back. I'm sure I can handle whatever you throw at me.” Avery knew it was a childish argument, but it didn't change the fact. She knows what she can and can't handle, and being told otherwise doesn't sit well with her. Stubborn.

She'd always been stubborn.

“So you get lucky and now you think you can fight?” He actually laughs.

“I didn't get lucky. I had a plan and I stuck to it.”

“Sister, I don't mean to poke fun, but I seen you fight, and you're good, don't get me wrong, but that was pure luck. Hell, most of the fights I won, I only got out on with luck. Ain't no shame in that.”

“Okay, luck or not, how do you expect me to learn with you always going easy on me? Give me a real job.”

The look in his eyes is one she's seen before, one she recognizes immediately; the looks of someone whose just been proven wrong, and can't bring themselves to admit it. She grins.

“Alright, you wanna learn, I'll teach ya.” He shrugs, and her smile widens. Never argue with a lawyer, it'll only-

“Try an' hit me. Give me your best shot.”

Wait _what?!_

She was _not_ expecting that.

Looking him over, she tries to gauge rather or not he's being serious.

But everything about him, his change in posture, the concentrated look in his eye, and even the cheeky, upward curve of his mouth, says he's as serious as can be.

“I- but...” she suddenly feels less sure of herself. “What about your arm. You told me I can't work because I broke a rib _a month ago_ and yet here you are with a broken arm?”

The lazy smile on his face turns into a playful one as he shrugs his good shoulder. “Evens out the odds. Besides, I wouldn't be too happy if you died out there 'cause I didn't teach you a thing or two, now lets go.”

“Do I just...what, try and hit you?” In the middle of a fight, she'd always just let instinct take over, let her body do the thinking for her, but this...it's as if her minds drawing a blank. Seeing the way he holds his damaged arm against his body sure as hell doesn't help. What if she accidentally hits it and hurts him even more?

She'd never really seen him fight, but there wasn't a doubt in her mind he had experience. And didn't she just say moments ago that she could never learn if no one taught her? That was on a completely unrelated topic, but still...better Hancock than a horde of super mutants, right?

Steadying herself she holds her arms close to her chest, fists covering her face, just like Nate had showed her, then rushes forward, closing the two meter gap between them.

Her fists swing out, but Hancock easily side steps her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around as if she weighed nothing. Her back slams roughly into his chest, both her arms pinned under his good one.

She swallows at the sharp sting of metal pressed against her throat, the razor sharp tip biting into her delicate skin at the rise and fall of her breathing.

If this were a real fight, she'd have been dead before it even started.

“Easy there, Killer.” His breath tickles her ear, caressing it's way down her neck. His body is pressed so closely to her own she can feel his heart beat thrumming against her back; fast and strong.

Despite the beads of blood starting to form along her neck from the steady blade held there, she's not afraid. Far from it, actually. Her pulse is racing, the rush of blood pumping through her body makes her head feel fuzzy.

And it has everything to do with the man behind her, pinning her tightly against his body, his soft breath against her neck like strings of electricity.

“You gotta be less predictable.” His arm slides away, and was it her imagining it, or was there something deliberate in the way his fingertip glided, feather light, across her skin as he did so?

He takes a step back and she turns to face him, acutely aware of his gaze traveling along her body before reluctantly looking away. At the snap of his finger, he's back to business. “Make them think you're comin in from the side, then land a swift knee right in the gut. Buy ya some time to rethink your next move. Try again.”

This time, she aims for his stomach but switches last minute, going for the head like he'd said. He dodges it just as easily as the first time, but when she swings her left arm for a third hit, aiming again for his stomach, she catches the surprise in his eyes as he jumps back.

“Almost got me with that one, Sister. Keep it up!”

Each time she gets closer and closer, but never manages to land an actual hit, a part of her still afraid she'll catch his bad arm. Experience told her hitting a broken bone hurts like a bitch, and although she has no doubt he knows the pain as well, she wouldn't be the one to remind him.

“So you two are up here fucking around while I'm working my ass off?” Fahrenheits voice makes them both jump. She's leaning against the doorframe, and something about the look in her eyes leads Avery to believe she's been there for a while.

“Perfect time, Fahr!” Hancock walks to the corner of the room. After fumbling around he tosses her a heavy looking wooden bat which she catches with ease. “ Been teaching Avery here a thing or two about throwin' punches. Think it's time she learns how to dodge em.”

Fahrenheit shrugs, giving the bat a few practice swings before looking over to Avery.

“Oh no. No, no, no. Not happening.” She backs away, holding her arms out. Hancock is one thing, but Fahrenheit? Hell no.

“Don't worry,” She takes a step toward her, a devilish grin teasing at her lips. “I'll take it easy on you.”

The bat makes a loud swoosh as it arches downward, aiming directly for her head. She stumbles to the side, feeling the brush of air from the bat pass her as it goes.

Without missing a beat, Fahrenheit brings the bat back around, swinging from the left, and Avery jumps back again, this time narrowly dodging it.

“This is going,” she side steps as the bat aims low, trying to knock her off balance, “easy?!”

“Too easy?” Fahrenheit pulls the bat back, jamming the top of it directly into her stomach, slamming her into the wall directly behind her. There's defiantly going to be bruise there later, but compared to what the other woman is capable of, a bruise is the least of her worries.

Before she has a chance to fill her lungs, the bat is already arching through the air right above her head.

Her mind switches to auto pilot, her arm lashing out and grabbing the bat while her body twists, yanking the weapon right out from Fahrenheits grip.

“Atta girl!” Hancock cheers on from a safe distance.

Using the momentum from the spin she swings from the side, aiming to hit the other woman low to knock her off balance.

 _Stay one step ahead. Don't be predictable._ Hancocks earlier advice repeats in her mind. Last minute she pulls the bat up, aiming for the opponents head instead.

Fahrenheit ducks, using her leg to side swipe Avery, knocking her flat on her ass. The impact knocks what little air she'd manage to collect back out in a not so graceful _guh_ sound. Her head is spinning, but she's dully aware of the light footsteps that stop just in front of her.

“Not bad.” Fahrenheit is standing over her, her hand outstretched in an offer to help.

“Jesus,” Avery accepts her hand as she's hoisted back onto her feet with little effort on Fahrenheits side. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

“Fahr? Nah,” Hancock waves a dismissive hand at her words. “She likes you too much.”

Fahrenheit shrugs her shoulders, but makes no move to deny it.

“Guess I did something right, then. Hate to be on your bad side, esh.” Avery rubs at the forming bruise on her abdomen.

“Trust me, you would.” Fahrenheit sets the bat down next to the door way. “Whenever you two are done goofing off, I could use some help. Finn fucked off somewhere and left me with two morons who don't have a clue, and MacCready, whose too busy bitching to actually get shit done.”

“I'm in.” Avery steps forward, probably a little too eagerly.

Fahrenheit eyes her before shrugging, “Could use all the hands I can get. Let's go.” Avery shuffles after her, stopping at the door to turn back toward the mayor, shooting him a cocky grin.

“ See, s _he's_ not afraid to give me a real job.” She winks.

Hancock flips her off, wearing a playful grin of his own as he follows after the two women.

Fahrenheit leads them outside to the wall, where two younger men are too busy arguing to notice them.

“Hey, you two!” She calls out. “Go help out in the infirmary.”

“Hell no.” The one argues back. “Last time some fucker bled out all over my jacket. Shit like that ain't easy to come around in the 'Wealth.”

“Don't care. Leave.” Fahrenheit waves them off. They look at one another, about to argue but think better of it before throwing the tools to the ground and stomping off, heading toward the Rexford, aka; the infirmary.

“This all they got done?” Hancock adjusts his tricorn to block the sun from his eyes, which is already beating down hard.

“Well, it's all yours now” She runs a hand through her hair before turning to leave. “Gotta go find MacCready, make sure he's not slacking off...again.” She mumbles to herself, heading toward the Third Rail where she's most likely to find him.

“So,” Avery reaches for the sack of bricks laying on the ground, only realizing her mistake once she picks it up. Fuckers heavy, damn. “Same thing as last time? You cement, I lay down bricks?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He picks up a trowel as she struggles to drag the sack over, the thing snagging on every crack along the way.

And there's a lot of fucking cracks.

She looks over to Hancock whose leaning against the wall, watching her.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Nothin' ” he waves his his hand, trying, and failing, to hide the grin.

The bag snags again, and she curses under her breath.

“It'll be easier if you pick it up, ya know. But if it's too heavy...” He lets his words trail off into a suggestion.

He's toying with her now, trying to get her to admit she needs help.

Which obviously she does....but.

“If only there was a strong man around who could help me. I wonder where MacCready went.” She pouts, looking over her shoulder.

“Thought you were an independent woman?” He jokes, pushing himself from the wall to saunter over.

“Don't be an ass.” Her smile mirrors his own.

“Me? I'm a gentlemen just as much as I'm good lookin'.” He slings the bag over his good shoulder with ease.

“Show off.”

 


	21. Chapter 21

“Fix that one, will ya? It's pokin' out.” Hancock wipes the sweat from his brow, the harsh sun now beating down full blast. After they'd finished re-rebuilding the wall, they'd headed out to help MacCready set up the rest of the mines outside of town; a tedious job only made worse by the sweltering heat. Considering it's mid November, the weather is definitely out of place. Two-hundred years ago, a thick blanket of snow would already be covering the ground, Christmas decorations lining the streets.

_Guess that's what happens when nuclear warfare breaks out._ It's a bleak thought, but it's also reality.

“No, it's not,” MacCready waves him off with a flick of his hand. “And even if it was, not like they'd see it anyway.”

“I ain't payin' ya to do a half assed job, 'Cready, and I sure as hell ain't takin' any chances. Fix it.”

He scoffs, spitting on the ground before laying down another mine. “You aren't even paying me for this crap. Fix it yourself.”

They eye each other before Hancock gives in. “Little shit,” He mumbles under his breath as he fixes the cardboard covering the mine with his boot, careful not to detonate it.

“I'm can hear, you know.”

“Guys,” Avery cuts them off. “Less talking, more working, c'mon.” They still had about fifty more mines to hide, and she'd be damned if she had to listen to them bitch at each other the whole way through.

“I think I liked it better when this was a solo job.” MacCready covers yet another explosive, being more careful to hide it.

“It's gotta get done though. No use making this any more miserable than it has to be.”

“If you sound any more like Fahrenheit, I think we're gonna have a problem, Sister.” Hancock fiddles with the buttons of his shirt before shrugging it off, exposing the toned muscles in his arms. She watches as a bead of sweat pools over his navel before sliding along the soft V of his hips, where it disappears behind loosely fitted pants.

It's the first time she's actually seen that much skin, and dammit, if looks could undress, he'd be naked in a second. Despite the radiation damage done to his skin, toned muscles still shine through, years of life in the 'Wealth giving him a slim, athletic build that makes it hard to look away.

When she does finally manage to tear her gaze away, it's only then that she notices the amusement gleaming in his blackened eyes. Shit.

Shit, shit, shit. He'd seen her staring, there was no questions there.

And somehow, she's okay with it. Likes it, actually.

“So,” she holds the mine up, glancing at it. “Let's keep this party rolling before I have a heat stroke, yeah?” It wasn't a lie, per se, but it was, however, a piss poor, if not completely transparent excuse.

“Anything you want, doll,” he nods at her, letting the innuendo coat his words.

All her life she'd been a simple woman, sticking to the things she knew, always preferring it that way. Even the men who'd caught her eye, as well as the one's she'd chosen to date had been simple, easy to read. Not Hancock.

He's shaken her world and turned in upside down. An addict with lose morals, and while Avery wouldn't call herself a shallow person, looks did play a part. Hancock walks to the beat of his own drums; charismatic in his own way. The deep contrast he brings into her life is a force of it's own that only pulls her in deeper.

Question is, is he thinking the same thing or is this all one sided? One simple question and she would have her answer, but with everything going on...timing is important.

Sighing, she reaches over for a mine when off in the distance one sets off. Instantly the two look around for MacCready who looks just as confused as them.

“Grab a gun, let's go.” Hancocks whole demeanor changes in an instant, like a switch. Avery and MacCready do as told, flanking Hancock, weapons drawn.

“Did anyone catch where it came from?” She heard it go off somewhere from the east, but how far is anyones guess.

“I didn't get too far down this way, only set down a few, options are slim,” MacCready answers, then grumbles to himself. “If it was some feral or mole rat, I swear...”

“Just be ready for anything.” Hancock warns.

 

* * *

 

Hancock brushes some scrap away, revealing an intact mine. It's the fourth location they've checked, all the rest clear, the bombs still hidden, completely untouched.

“That's all of 'em.” MacCready lowers his rifle, looking around.

“How sure of that are you?” Hancock turns around, his eyes searching the ground for any mines they may have missed.

“I told you, I didn't get too far down. Maybe it wasn't one of ours?”

“Slim chances.” Hancock peers through the window of a near by building. When he doesn't see anything he walks a little ways up the street, peering down an alley way.

“I'm telling you, that's all of them.” MacCready removes his hat, using the back of his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his head.

Avery squints when something catches her eye.

A couple hundred feet back, from the way they came, is a man slumped against a dumpster. At least, she thinks it's a man, from this distance it's hard to make out...how had they missed him?

“Guys.” She calls out, but they're too busy arguing to hear her.

“Hey! Guys, look.” She repeats, a little louder this time. That catches their attention. “I think I see something, over there by the dumpster.”

“Where?” Hancock holds his hand over his eyes, trying to block the sun from his view, but MacCready spots him almost instantly.

He holds his rifle up, looking through the scope.

“Is he dead?” Avery only realizes how stupid the question is after asking. Not many people are lucky enough to survive a landmine.

“Shit...” Is all he says, not bothering to censor himself. Before either of them have a chance to question him, he's already running toward the probably dead man.

“RJ!” Hancock yells after him. “God dammit, let's go.” He lightly brushes against her arm before breaking into a sprint, chasing after MacCready.

They're faster than her, a lot faster actually, but when she does finally reach them, she stops dead in her tracks.

What the hell...?

The man she thought she'd seen isn't a man at all, isn't even human, but some kind of...

“What the hells he doing here..?” Hancock mutters under his breath.

“You know him?!” Avery can't cover the disbelieve in her voice. The thing laying on the ground in front of them looks like something out of an old Sci-fi movie, pieces of what appear to be flesh torn away from it's face, revealing metal underneath. It's left hand nothing but metalic frames and wires.

A cyborg? A full on robot? She wasn't sure if she should be more horrified or curious. Who would think that someone would have the tech in this nuclear wasteland to make whatever the hell is sitting before her?

“Nick?” Hancock kneels next to the man, pressing his hand against it's skull. “He's alive. 'Cready, give me a hand.”

Do robots even have a pulse? Avery takes a cautious step forward, and her ears pick up on a soft hum the closer she gets. It's definitely a machine.

Radiated humans that can live for hundreds of years, giant green mutants, and now robots? What else doesn't she know about this world? It's enough to make her head spin.

“Avery!” she turns her head at her name and realize Hancock has been talking to her.

“Sorry, I- what?”

“Grab his legs, we need to get him back to town.” Her eyes flick between the two men eyeing her to the thing between them.

What if it's dangerous? What if he wakes up and-

“Avery! Grab his legs and help!” Hancock barks out, more than a little annoyed.

“S-sorry.” She scrambles, finally doing as she's told, surprised that the flesh that still clings to it is warm, soft even.

He's heavy though. Heavier than a man this size should be. The inhuman heat radiating off his body is doubled by the sweltering sun, the three of them drenched in sweat by the time they make it back to town.

“Where are we taking him?” Avery asks. The infirmary? Would they even know how to handle something like this?

“No, the Memory Den. Amari should be there.” Hancock kicks open the gate, “Out of the way!” he calls out as people block the path. They scramble to move, staring at the man being carried in.

Amari. Avery searches her mind, trying to recall a face to the name.

Amari...

The scientist! It suddenly made sense.

“Open the doors!” Hancock orders a group of young men smoking outside of the Memory Den. They jump at his voice, but do as they're told.

They run through the doors and she nearly stumbles as a rush of memories bursts forward.

Despite the centuries that have passed, the resemblance of the place that once was is like a slap in the face. What was once a fance, upper class diner is now some sort of...she doesn't even know. Dingy pod like chairs now replace beautifully decorated tables and booths of her memories. The adorned walls now tattered and peeling.

Memories of her childhood, of her family come flooding back and she has to bite her lip to staunch the tears threatening to spill over.

_Concentrate._

She turns attention instead to the man in front of her as they run to the back of the building, toward the staircase where they descend the stairs into a small room.

“What in Gods name are-” Amari stops mid sentence as they enter the room, her eyes settling on Nick. “What happened? Why is he here?”

“Stepped on a landmine, don't know.” MacCreadys answers as the three set him down in a near by pod.

Amari pushes her way in, turning the mans head to the side where a small square panel sits above his ear. She opens it, and shines a light inside.

“Can you fix him up, Doc?” Hancock asks, moving to give her more room.

She takes a screw driver out of her chest pocket, fiddles with something inside before answering. “Nothing seems permanently damaged, a few frayed wires, but then again I'm not too familiar with this model.”

Everything about this seems so surreal. She collapses against the wall, holding her head in her hands, trying to stop the spinning. Between the memories, the heat of the day and that man sitting in the pod next to her, it's too damn much.

“Hand me that box over there on the counter than get out,” Amari gestures over to MacCready who does as instructed. “Can't concentrate with this many people.”

Avery heard the words but can't make her body do what she wants. A hand on her shoulder causes her to look up. Hancock is above her, his brows creased in concern. “C'mon, sister, we gotta skedaddle. Ain't nothing we can do now but let the good doctor do her thing.”

She stands, legs a little wobbly, but manages the climb up the stairs.

“If you two don't mind, I think I'm gonna wait a bit.” Hancock butts his smoke, then lights another before sitting on a nearby bench.

She's torn. Here she is falling apart over memories of people that are long dead, and yet that thing on the table is Hancocks friend, possibly dying... She wants nothing more than to leave this place, she's been avoiding it for that very reason, and yet...

“MacCready...if it's all the same to you, I'm going to stay here too.”

“No skin off my back,” he shrugs before disappearing through the double doors, into the heat of the day.

Avery keeps her eyes on the floor, taking deep, long breaths to try and calm the anxiety threatening to boil over. Only when she feels in control does she walk over to Hancock, taking a seat next to him.

He's quiet for a minute before handing her his pack of cigarettes. When she looks over to him, a question written on her face, he adds, “Saw that look on your face when we came in. Thought you could use one.”

She laughs, a dry, hollow sound and accepts his offer. “That obvious?” She takes the book of matches as well, lights it.

The bitter sweet smoke burns her throat, filling her lungs. Smoking's a nasty habit, it didn't take a degree in medicine to know that, but it was always her vice of choice whenever shit got too heavy. Alcohol a close second.

“Kind of,” he ashes on the floor despite there being a tray right beside him. “Don't get me wrong, I appreciate this, but you don't gotta stay. I get it.”

She waves him off.

“This place used to be a diner, real fancy place. Mom would always take us whenever she got a good paycheck, and my sister and I thought it was the best damn thing ever, you know? Just a shitty reminder that everyone's dead is all.” She smiles, trying to lighten the weight of reality.

“I feel ya. Can only imagine how freaky all this is for you, Sister. Probably should have told you about Synths before too. They're not uncommon around these parts, just didn't think to.”

This time she really does laugh. “You think? Probably would have thought it was cool if I knew in advance, but I'm not sure how many more surprises I can handle. Got anything else I should know about? ”

“Let me make a list and I'll get back to you on that. Brains a little fried right now.” He leans back in the bench, resting his arms on the back, smoke drifting from the cigarette resting between his lips.

“So,” She bites her lip, unsure how to ask. “how do you know the guy in there?” Is that too invasive to ask? Truth be told, she just wants a distraction.

“Known the guy for a long time, never paid him much mind, but he helped me out a few months back. Was passing through town when a bunch a raiders came knocking at the gates saying we were killin' their people, threatening to burn the place down.”

“Were you?”

He snorts, “Ain't a fan of 'em, but I'm not about to start killin' folks less they give me reason, you know?”

“I could think of a few reasons.” She thinks back to her first meeting with the group of raiders who'd tried to rape her. A sour look passes through her features before turning back to Hancock.

“They ain't exactly known for their hospitality. Anyway, just so happened Nick was in the area and offered to help. Did some snooping, and turns out there was some pyscho, Pickman was his name, not far down the block who had a bone to pick with the raiders. That's nothin' new, but get this, and I can't make this shit up, but he was usin' their blood to make these screwed up, macabre paintings.”

He gave her minute to let it sink in before continuing. “'Course, the Raiders wanted the location of his hideout, but Nick wouldn't give it to 'em. Said somethin' about serving justice.”

“And they left you guys alone, just like that?” If he says yes, she's calling bullshit. She'd only even seen them once, but they didn't seem like the type to let things slide.

“Heh, you kiddin? They attacked us. Never stood a chance, though.” The smile on his face is short lived. “Nickey's one of the good ones, you feel me? Not many left, Fahr, and maybe 'Cready. He's questionable at best though. Frugal prick.”

Avery faux coughs, raising her brow at him.

“You?” He laughs, “You're on a whole 'nother level, Sister. Too good for a shit hole like this.”

His words take her back. “I- uh, wow. Not sure what to say to that- thanks!” She smiles.

“Anytime, Sister.” He nudges her shoulder with his own, then winks. “Seriously, I got a lot of 'em.”

Now it's her turn to laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Hancock.”

He raises a brow at her in silent question, pulling another soft laugh from her. “Okay, maybe a little.”

She leans back on the bench her head resting on his arm behind her, closing her eyes.

Only he could calm her so easily when minutes ago she was on the verge of a mental break down, sitting in the ruins of her favorite childhood place, now turned into a... a what?

“Hey Hancock?”

“Yeah?”

“What is this place, anyway?” She pretends not to notice his arm slowly curl around her, resting on her shoulders.

“Like the name says. It's the Memory Den. See those pods?” She nods. “You sit in them and it shows you memories. Not my cup a tea, too much shit I'd rather forget, but it's got it's appeal to the right folks.”

“Hm.” Is her only response. As her mind slowly drifts in and out of consciousness, she can't help but wonder what kind of memories the machines would show. Would they be the happy memories of a younger her, or would they be the sad moments of a grown woman, unhappy with the path her life had taken? Maybe, one day, she'd get the chance to find out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't write a F4 story without my favorite synth being in there. THE PLOT PROGRESSES! :D
> 
> Also, there may be some angsty stuff later on, depending. I've got ideas, and now I've got excuses to write em ;)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've deleted and rewritten this entire chapter more times than I care to admit, so finally I just said screw it. The first couple paragraphs are a little rocky, at best, but it gets better.
> 
> Apparently I can't write people waking up from a nap, lmao!

A soft flick to her nose pulls her from sleep.

“C'mon, up and at 'em, Sister.”

“Huh?” Her eyes open in surprise, and it takes a second for her to remember where she is. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Avery looks around, realizing she must have fallen asleep on Hancock. “How long was I out for?”

“ 'Bout two or three hours.” He grimaces, rolling his shoulder when she sits up, the bones popping as he does.

“You could have woken me up, you know.” She bites her lips, feeling guilty for falling asleep on him in the first place.

“Nah, you looked like you could use the shut eye. 'Sides, not like I minded.” He waves her off with a flick of his wrist.

“Any word on Nick?” She asks, more so to change the subject than anything.

“Yeah,” Hancock adjusts the collar of his coat, shaking his head. “Didn't understand a word of what she said, but yeah.” He fishes his pack of cigarettes out from his pocket, lighting one up before explaining.

Avery was never technically suave, so despite her best efforts to pay attention, most of his words are lost on her. Even Hancock himself doesn't seem to comprehend most of what he's saying, only repeating what Amari had told him.

“So,” She starts, trying to make sense of things. “You're saying the part of him that remembers things got fried?”

He nods.

“But she can build him a new one? _”_

“That's the plan, Sister.” He ashes into the tray next to them before standing. “I'm just as clueless on this as you are, only thing I really got was the part where she said 'Nick is gonna be fine,' all I really need to know, anyway. The rest is just gibberish.”

She nods, but can't help but to run over everything in her head once more. Nicks memory chip was fried, so his short term memory is gone, but Amari can rebuild him a new chip and transfer the data to the new one? It made sense, but all the terminology Hancock had used...it made her head spin. She liked her version better.

“So what now?” She pushes herself off the bench, her legs a little wobbly from hours of sitting.

He shrugs. “Nothin' to do but wait.” He butts his smoke in the tray before heading to the doors, holding one open for her as she follows.

It's gotten late, the heat of the day disappearing with the sun, leaving a cool night breeze. Hancock leans against the building, lighting another cigarette, his brows creased in thought.

“You okay? You look...annoyed?” With everything on his plate, she couldn't blame him, but if there's something she could do to help, she'd do it.

He curls his lip, the cigarette between his lips bobbing as he speaks. “ Been procrastinatin' too long. Shits gotta get done, and I'm probably not gonna get much sleep tonight, so I might as well get it done.”

Is he talking to himself, or speaking so vaguely on purpose? “Hancock, you're not making any sense.”

“Inventory.” He pushes away from the wall, rubbing the back of his neck. “ There's a warehouse where we keep extra supplies, but it's trashed. Gotta clear it out and pick out anything useful.”

That didn't sound too bad. She'd had a side job in college cleaning out apartments, and while it wasn't exactly fun, she never minded the work. “Mind if I tag along?”

He laughs. “Trust me, Sister, that ain't an easy job. Lotta shit to clean up and sort through,” He shakes his head, his eyes landing on her. “But if you're set on it, I could use the company?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Well, shit. No wonder he's been putting this off. The place is huge, calling it a 'room' would just be an injustice to it's size.

And every square inch is completely covered in junk.

“Geez, you weren't kidding about this place being a mess...” Her nose picks up on a soft odor, something long since dead.

He scoffs, kicking a metal canister out of their way. “ Told you. Been trying to get this done for weeks now, but no ones willing to take on the job. Might as well save the caps and do it myself, you know?” He picks up a lantern in a nearby corner, lighting it with a match.

As the light casts away a small portion of darkness, something small scurries across the floor in front of them. Too small for a Radroach, but too big for a mouse. Rats, maybe?

Whatever it is, it's gone as quick as it appeared, and she decides it's not worth worrying about. There's bound to be a few rodents scurrying around in a mess like this, anyway.

Climbing over fallen cabinets and bookcases, they make their way to the back of the warehouse, and the stench she'd first caught whiff of at the entrance grows unbearably strong the further back they go. It reminds her of high tide at the beach....only worse.

“Whats that smell?” She curls her lip, waving her hands in front of her face in a vein attempt to chase away the fishy order that permeates the air.

“Dead Mirelurk,” he mumbles, setting the lantern down to unlock the door in front of them. “Bobbi's little hole is in the basement, and my guys were too fuckin' dumb to think to clear out the bodies when they filled it in, so...”

“Mirelurk?”

He raises a brow at her before remembering how little of the Commonwealth she's seen. “Giant crabs. Ugly sons-a-bitches, too.” He holds the door open for her to step through before letting it drift shut behind them. “Steer clear of 'em if you can.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” She squints into the room, trying to see past the blackness.

He sets the lantern down on a nearby desk, giving them a couple feet of visibility in the house size room.

Avery didn't know what she'd been expecting when she agreed to help out, but whatever it was, it wasn't this; she's seen slums overrun by the homeless in better shape than this place.

For all she can see, the room doesn't even have a floor; just a giant heap of junk. Large book cases sit in a pile in the middle of the room, whole shelves torn from the walls, their contents spilled across the ground. Various objects poke up from the mess; guns, cans of food, cases of beer, ancient televisions, and- is that a fucking _arm_?

She rips the lantern from the desk, holding it out.

The unmistakable sheen of plastic shines back at her as she realizes, with more than a little relief, that it's just a mannequin.

Her hand instinctively reaches to her heart, trying to calm the spastic rhythm. But still.

“Hancock, why the _fuck_ is there a mannequin in here?”

He shrugs. “Beats me.”

“It scared the shit out of me, jesus.”

He laughs. “I swear, sometimes I think those damned things are alive- they pop up in the weirdest places. Found on in my room once when I was a kid, woke up and it was just...there. My brother swears up and down he didn't put do it, not that I believed him.”

“You have a brother?” She looks over to him.

He tenses up, almost as if he didn't even realize what he'd said. “Yeah, uh, we're not what you'd call a close knit family. Haven't spoken to the guy in years.”

“How come?” Avery knew how sensitive a subject family could be, but the question spilled from her mouth before she had a chance to stop it.

He shrugs her question off, picking up one of the overturned bookcases, not saying another word.

That was unlike him...Hancock was usually an open book, but... guess even he has some shit he'd rather not remember. It raises the question, though, what else doesn't she know about him?

She opens her mouth to apologize, but closes it, thinking it's probably better to just change the subject. “So what exactly do we need to do?”

He blinks a few times, almost like he was lost in thought before speaking. “We keep extra guns and food in here in case shit hits the fan, but folks tend to stock up for themselves, so we don't use it much. Leaving town to scavenge and trade has been next to impossible, so everyone's runnin' low. We need to look around, see what we can find.”

“This place is huge, though. You think it's worth digging through?”

“Last I knew, we had about a months worth of food and enough guns to arm the whole town. Twice.”

Her eyes widen. The place is a wreck, true, but with numbers like that? This job should have been done months ago.

“You sure you wanna stick around?” Hancock picks up the last bookcase, arranging them in a square in the center of the room. “Starting to look like an all night kinda job...”

She reaches down for a basket, filling it with the cans spilled around her feet. “Trying to get rid of me, Hancock?”

“Nah, nothin' like that. Just...giving you an out is all. I mean, I sure as hell don't wanna be here. Don't see a reason we both gotta suffer.”

She grins up at him, “Cleaning up this shit storm with you for company? Couldn't think of a better way to spend my night.”

Even through the darkness, she can see his lip perk up in a cocky sort of half smile. “I could think of a thousand things I'd rather be doin',” his voice dips low, heavy with implications. “An' guess who happens to be in every single one? _”_

He lets out a short laugh, leaving Avery to wonder rather or not he's joking.

And as much as she hopes he isn't, it wouldn't happen.

Not yet, anyway.

And definitely not in this high tide smelling, dusty old junkhole of a house.

“Tempting, but hows about we-” Her words cut off as her ears pick up on a new sound. “Do you hear that?”

His brows crease in confusion as the sound suddenly stops.

“It stopped, wait,” Her ears strain, but the noise is gone...no, wait. “There!”

The crease is his brow deepens, “I hear it. That been going on this whole time?”

“I don't think so...” She sets the basket down before pacing the room, trying to pinpoint the source. “It sounds like it's coming from below us.”

His eyes narrow.

“What?” She watches as he takes his gun out from it's holster, checking to make sure it's loaded before grabbing the lantern. “Hancock, what is it?”

“Whatevers making that sound, it's not coming from this building; ain't no power here. You got your gun?”

Her hand reaches for the holster at her leg, her fingers skimming along the cool metal of her pistol “I do, but-”

“C'mon.” He motions for her to follow him to the back of the room to a door she hadn't noticed until now. “It's could be nothing, but I'm not willing to take that chance.”

She nods as he opens the door leading to a narrow staircase. As they descend, the noise gets louder and louder, but still muffled by distance.

Hancock's right, whatever that sound is, it's not coming from the warehouse.

“It sounds like an alarm...” Like the mechanic droning you'd hear from an alarm clock, but higher, more urgent.

“Yeah, but for what?”

“Only one way to find out,” she gestures to the door leading into the basement. Hancock takes one last look at her before opening it, his gun poised to shoot.

But the small room is empty, save for the pile of rubble laying haphazardly on the floor. “I thought you said they covered the hole?”

“They did. Someone must have torn it down.” He takes a cautious step over to the entrance, but the light from the lantern barely touches the darkness. “Whatevers making that noise is gonna attract a lot of attention if we don't shut it up.”

Which would mean they have to go...Oh, hell no. Avery liked to think she'd outgrown her fear of the dark long ago, but staring into the tunnel, the darkness so thick it seems to have a life of it's own? Can't say she's too keen on the idea. “Shouldn't we get some backup, first?”

Hancock shakes his head, “This tunnel leads through an old subway route, and in the time it would take us to gather a group...” He lets his words trail off.

In the time it would take them to get help, whatever may be lurking down _there_ could very well find it's way up _here_.

“Didn't think of it that way...” She takes one last look into the tunnel before sighing. “Yeah, alright, let's go.”

“Listen,” Hancock stops her with a hand on her shoulder, “subways usually mean ferals. A lot of 'em, and there's no guarantee that I can- ”

Avery ignores his warning, pushes the fear down, and jumps off the short ledge into the tunnel. She's getting pretty tired of Hancocks little safety lectures.

Looking up, the soft glow of the lantern illuminates Hancocks just enough to see the surprise on his face.

“You coming or what?”

Seconds later he lands with a soft thud next to her.

“It's always the pretty ones that are bat shit crazy.”

She laughs. “Then I must be drop dead gorgeous.”

“Won't argue with you there,” he slips past her to take the lead, their bodies brushing against one another despite the ample room. “You watch my back, I watch yours?”

“Deal,” she pulls her little pistol out of it's holster. Now that they're down here, it's not as dark as she thought. The light from the lantern bounces off the walls, giving them enough visibility to see a good fifty feet ahead.

About ten minutes into the tunnel, the alarms grown from a barely audible whisper to more of a muffled wail, only getting louder still.

The smell of death and rot is worse too, the stench so overwhelmingly powerful that she has to use her shirt as a breathing mask, or else risk losing whatevers left of her lunch. Hancock doesn't seem to even notice, that or it just doesn't bother him.

Ahead of them the tunnel opens up, leading into an ancient subway system. Graffiti covers every bare inch of the walls, overlapping each other in some spots. Skeletal remains dot the ground, some still clad in clothes she recognizes from her time.

It strikes her as sad. How scared they must have been when the bombs went off, seeking shelter, only to die here. After all these years, after they were left to rot, never given the proper burial they deserved, they're still here. Just...forgotten.

“Sounds like it's coming from this way,” Hancock gestures to the right. “Be on your guard.”

They jump off the little platform, following the railroad tracks where they eventually come to a fork.

“Which way?” It's hard to pinpoint exactly which track the alarm is coming from, but they're definitely getting closer. She actually has to raise her voice a little just to be heard.

It's exactly because of that level of noise that she doesn't hear the scuffling of feet, or the telltale growl of ferals, until they're right on them.

Two, previously covered by trash, spring from the ground behind them, one limping down from the right, and another dragging itself along the ground from the left; two more follow behind it.

Instinctively she raises her gun, aiming at the lone feral, her finger about to pull the trigger when Hancock grabs the barrel of her pistol, slamming her against the wall.

“What are you-” He cuts her off, covering her mouth with his hand, her arms pinned high above her head.

He leans in close, lowering his voice so she more feels than hears his words, “You shoot that gun, we're gonna have a lot more of 'em on our tails.”

Is he crazy?! All their exits are blocked, and out in the open like this-

Her mind goes blank as the lone feral steps into view, it's withered eyes staring straight into her own. She tries to yank herself free from Hancocks hold, but he's got her good. His body presses up roughly against her own as the hand around her mouth tightens, muting her cries.

A low, predatory growl pushes past it's gaping mouth before it takes a shaky step toward them, it's gaunted arms reaching out.

She can't breath. She can't move. She can only watch as it comes closer, the stench of it's body turning her stomach. For whatever reason, her eyes fall on the floral print on the scraps of clothing that cling to it's body. At some point this thing was a woman; someones daughter, someones wife, or girlfriend, or even a mother of her own. This creature in front of her used to be a living, breathing human.

But staring into it's eyes, she sees none of that humanity. Not even a hint of sentience as it sniffs the air above Hancocks shoulder; just pure, unhinged instinct.

And thats when it hits her. Staring at the two side by side, they look nothing a like. She knew of the biased opinions of people in the Commonwealth, of their hatred and fear of ghouls, but side by side like this? They're nothing a like.

At least...not to her. The feral, however...it seems almost confused? It's tongue clicks rapidly as it sniffs along Hancocks shoulder, trailing along his arm. It's rotted breath brushes against her cheek as it's head comes closer and closer to her own, smelling the air.

Then it makes sense. For all intents and purposes, Hancock is a ghoul. Feral or not, they recognize him as one of their own.

It's _her_ scent that's throwing it off.

The feral takes in a sharp breath as it's nasal cavity butts against the curve of her jaw before letting out an a high pitched screech that leaves her ears ringing. Hancock pushes himself against her, using his shoulder to push it's head further back, getting in the way of it and her.

It's teeth clatter together as a snarl reverberate in it's throat, it's claw like hands gripping onto Hancocks shoulder. His eyes squeeze shut as the feral breaths him in, it's face pressed hard against against his own.

As it pulls away a thin string of slim coating it's skin bridges them together before snapping, and Avery watches Hancock wince as it does, every bit disgusted by it as she is.

But it works. With one last sniff, the feral limps away to join up with the others as Hancock steps back, pushing her along into the right lane of the fork. They sprint down the tunnel, only slowing when they're sure they're alone.

“Please, tell me you knew that would work?” Avery wheezes, her heart still pounding in her throat.

He looks at her, uncertainty in his eyes. “Ferals don't normally bother us ghouls, I knew that, but with you there...I'm gonna be honest with you, Sister, I didn't know how that was gonna end.”

All she can do is stare at him. She wasn't mad, not at all, actually. Relieved? Grateful? Slightly turned on by how he'd used his own body to shield her?

Sounded about right.

“Holy _shit_ ,” she laughs, sounding a little more manic than she'd like. “Karma sure as hell is on my side lately, fuck.” Her mind is reeling, coming up with a thousand ways that could have went wrong.

But it didn't.

His apologetic expression starts to melt into a mix between amusement and confusion, “I just used myself as a meat shield, and you're thankin' karma?I think you got your priorities outta wack, doll.”

She bites back the smile, struggling to get herself together. “Sorry I just- I seriously thought...” She takes a shaky breath, trying to calm her racing heart. “I seriously thought I was gonna die, and it's not like I knew what was going through your head, I just- ...Thank you.”

“Now that's more like it,” he pats her on the shoulder. “You good to go, or do you need a minute?

“No,” She waves him off, “No, I'm okay. We should probably keep moving, anyway.” Whose to say there isn't a whole horde of ferals stalking the subway, all being drawn in by the same sound they're aiming to stop? The sooner they find that alarm and get outta here, the better.

From where they stand, the sound is now near deafening, red lights in the distance, blinking in tandem with the alarm, illuminate the walls. They're close.

“Wait, what are doing?” She eyes him as he removes his frock and fiddles with the make shift sling around his busted arm.

“It's been three weeks; should be healed enough by now.” The sling drops to the ground as he gives his arm an experimental twist, seeming happy with the results. “Besides, if things go downhill, I won't be any use with that thing on. I'm good, but not that good.”

“Hancock...” Panic rises as she peers down a tunnel next to the one they just came out of. For a second, she wonders if her eyes are playing tricks on her, but as the alarm rings out again, the light momentarily shining down the tunnel, she sees them.

Dozens and dozens of ferals are marching toward them, stumbling over one another, attracted by the loud wailing of the alarm.

Her eyes dart around the room, looking for an exit, landing on an old, derailed train behind them.

“Hancock, look,” She calls over the siren, pointing to the train. Without saying a word he rushes over to the door, grunting as he tries to pry it open; it's rusted hinges groaning in protest.

The ferals are spilling into the room now, and there's even more than she'd originally thought. They're tripping over each other, pushing and shoving their way in. A few of them have already spotted them; letting out rage driven screams as they try to climb over the fallen ones.

A hand lashes out from under the cart, gripping her ankle with an inhuman amount of pressure, causing her to cry out.

“Fuck!” Hancock curses out as she's knocked off her feet.

It's free hand sneaks out, clawing at her leg as it tries to pull her in. “Get the door!” She yells out, landing a swift kick against it's head, it's skull cracking with a sickening thud as putrid blood pours from the wound. Spit foams at the corners of its mouth as its teeth snip at her foot, it's arm flailing desperately trying to sink it's claw like fingers into her flesh.

She pulls her leg back, throwing it forward with all her weight, and this time, when her foot lands square between it's eyes, she can feel the momentary resistance before it's flesh and bone give way, caving in on itself. It's a sensation she'll know will haunt her dreams, she can't help but to think as it's body goes limp, blood dripping from her boot.

Next to her, the door lets out one last groan before it's hinges give way, nearly knocking Hancock off his feet. The horde of ferals are right on top of them now, their decrepit hands reaching out, so close...

The heavy metal door launches from Hancocks arms, into the mass of bodies, knocking a few back. She's yanked up by her arm as he drags her onto her feet and into the train.

As they near the end of the car, she can't help but to look back, regretting it immediately. It's like something out of a nightmare; pitch blackness broken by a momentary flash of red, lighting up the cart behind them- writhing bodies climbing onto the ledge, darting after them before they're plunged back into darkness.

Seconds later light flashes, the mob appearing that much closer.

“Keep moving!” Hancock grabs her by the arm, roughly pulling her along.

They make it to the end of the car, jumping into another; then another, and more after that until they reach the end.

Hancock slams himself, full force into the door, but it doesn't budge; all the windows boarded up.

They're trapped.

“Get down!” He shoves her by the shoulders, practically throwing her to the ground and shoving her under one of the overhanging seats before climbing under with her, his body once again hovering over her; shielding her.

Protecting her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He curses as he looks back, seeing the mass of ferals blinking closer with each flash of light.

If one so much as looks down, they'll be spotted. The thought slams into her with an almost physical force.

This is it; they're going to die.

As the first of the ferals makes it's way into the cart, limbs flailing, hunger in it's eyes, a sudden calm falls over her.

She'll be torn to pieces, but Hancock...

Hancock will live.

More spill into the car, their growls competing in volume with the alarm; the train shaking as they slam into the walls, the seat above them groaning from the weight as they quickly fill up the cramped space.

Spontaneity was never a quality she possessed. Everything had to be well thought out; planned.

So it comes as surprise, even to her, when her lips find his; praying that that one simple action will convey all the words she'll never get to say.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats! You just read a 4.2k word wall of text! Yay you!
> 
> I'm not gonna lie, I consider myself a better writter in the "action" department, and just downright horrible when it comes to romance, I took a big chance writing this fic in the first place, but all the wonderful comments I get from you guys keeps me going, so thanks so much for all the amazing support! :)


	23. Chapter 23

 

She pulls away only after a few short seconds, never giving him the chance to respond. Call it selfish, but whether his feelings were the same or not didn't matter; she'd just wanted that one simple kiss.

Her life was dotted with regrets; her job, living life on the cusp of others expectations, taking on all that responsibility at such a young age- even her marriage to a man she thought she'd loved.

She'll be damned if the last thing she does on this earth is another regret.

Not even a second ticks by as the shock in his eyes quickly melts away into something else, something dangerous, as his mouth crashes into her own, reflecting the need she'd felt only moments ago. A low groan escapes her lips as he finds a fist full of her hair, holding her in place, his other arm supporting his weight, careful not to crush her.

His textured lips are rough as his tongue grazes her lower lip, demanding entrance that she's more than willing to give. Her head spins in the taste him; the bitter tang of cigarette, a sweet aftertaste she can't quite place. On anyone else it would have been an awkward combination, but on Hancock, it's like the worlds strongest aphrodisiac.

The ferals are throwing themselves at the closed door now, their snarls growing in desperation as space in the cramped car becomes lesser still. All the while unaware their prey is hidden right below their noses, lost in a world of their own as their tongues fight for dominance; twisting in sync to a silent rhythm.

A slow growl builds in his throat as she takes his lower lip between her teeth, giving it a gentle tug, her fingers digging into the lapels of his coat, forcing the weight of his body onto her own.

Avery wasn't a religious woman, despite her mothers best attempts, but in that moment, she'd kill to be wrong. Heaven or Hell, it didn't matter; she'd burn this moment into her being, take it with her in death.

Relive it over and over.

They're so lost in each other they almost don't hear the low groan followed by a crash as the door gives way under all the abuse; ferlas go spilling out of the exit, eager to escape their confined prison.

Amidst the madness, they find themselves face to face with two ghouls who are knocked over in the rush, their eyes instantly landing on the pair.

Avery closes her eyes, ready for death when Hancock reaches into her breast pocket, searching around, before pulling out the little pocket knife she kept hidden there. Without a moments hesitation, he buries it deeply into the skull of the nearest feral with a sickeningly wet thud.

The others claw lashes out, catching Avery above the eye, it's nails tearing flesh as it drags down, causing her to cry out. Instantly, blood begins pouring down the side of her face, it's sticky warmth pooling into her hair.

A few of the ferals catch the scent, stopping in the middle of the car, sniffing the air as hunger explodes in their blackened eyes.

The one in front of them lashes out again as Hancock plunges the blade, hilt deep, into the side of it's skull as it's body goes limp. Pus and blood stream out of it's wound as he pulls the blade free.

The last of the ferals pool out of the train, only a few stragglers remaining- pacing around in search of her scent. Through her good eye, she can make out about four or five, but without the use of their guns, the odds are not in their favor.

Hancock doesn't seem to notice them, instead his concerned gaze is on her, at the blood pouring down her face.

“I'll be fine,” she manages, trying to sound reassuring. It's a lie, of course. She can't see out of her left eye, can't even open it, and she's already starting to get light headed with blood loss, but what good would it do for him to know that? They needed to get out of here first, her wounds could wait.

“Don't move, I'll take care of the rest, just stop that bleeding, you hear?”

She nods as he hands her the little pocket knife before rolling out into the open, drawing his own blade from his back pocket. It could be they sense the danger, or maybe her scent is clinging to Hancock, but for whatever reason, when the ferals finally do spot him, they waste no time attacking.

Everything plays out as if she's seeing pictures rather than a real life event; split seconds of nothingness broken by a momentary flash of light, the scene in front of her changing with each red flare.

Hancock is standing in the middle of the train; four ferals surrounding him-

One is airborne, it's limbs reaching out-

...His blade piercing it through the jugular.

Her brain struggles to keep up with it all, to fill in the blanks.

Two more sprint at him; one landing at his feet- missing it's mark, the second crashing into him with enough force to knock him to the floor.

A third one lets out a ear splitting scream, spit flying from it's mouth before charging at Hancock who barely manages to kick it back with his foot; still struggling to get the first one off his chest.

The vision in her eye is next to none, and the disorienting light only makes it that much harder to focus, but she can't just sit and watch. Her hand grips tightly onto the little pocket knife as she pushes herself out from under the seat, her wound bleeding freely down her face, soaking her clothes.

She's lost too much blood already. The room is spinning as she climbs to her feet, struggling to stay upright.

The feral Hancock had just kicked back spins on it's heels, the scent of her blood catching its attention instantly. It lets out another rage driven shriek as she charges after it, determine to have the upper hand. The blade swings down, blindly, as the light flashes off, sinking into flesh, something wet and gooey splattering along her hand.

Seconds later the car is once again illuminated in the red glow, giving her time to see the damage she's done; her blade is buried, hilt deep, into it's gaping eye socket, it's face contorted into an eternal scream. As it's body drops to the ground, so too does her blade, jammed deeply into it's head.

The light goes out once again just as the one on top of Hancock swivels around, catching her scent. In the silence of the darkness it lets out a pained cry as something collides against it, followed by the slick, sharp sound she now knows to be metal piercing flesh.

Three down, one to go... The light comes back just in time to see the last feral leap from across the room, it's body airborne. Forgetting everything she's learned, her body freezes up, and all she can do is watch as it grows closer and closer, staring into it's gaping maw, it's arms outstretched, ready to grab.

Through the keen of the alarm, a single shot rings out as it's body lands at her feet. Her eyes travel from the fresh exit hole in the center of its forehead, to Hancock. The the smoking barrel of his shotgun still pointing directly at her, the look of fear on his face mirroring her own.

It's the last thing she sees before the alarm cuts out, plunging them into permanent darkness.

The realization of what just happened has her knees go weak, caving under her own weight.

He shot at her. In pitch darkness, he shot at her.

Her mind flashes back when she herself did the exact same thing; a life time ago, back when Fahrenheit was pinned by a group of ferals, much like Avery just was. Without a single ounce of experience, the odds were against her, but she'd taken that gamble, and because of her, Fahrenheit was alive.

Exactly like Hancock had done just now. He'd taken a chance, and because of that, she was alive.

“Hancock?” Her voice is weak as she calls out.

“I'm here,” his foot steps echo in the small car followed by a soft _fffttt_ as a match dimly lights the walls around them. His eyes land on her, and within seconds he crosses the small space, his hands on her shoulders as he frantically looks over her. “Shit, I didn't hit you, did I? I'm sorry- I didn't-”

“You did what you had to,” she cuts him off, a reassuring smile on her lips. It may have been true, but that didn't mean she wasn't shaken up over it- another thing it wouldn't do him any good to know.

He looks uncomfortable as his eyes search her own, as if he wants to say more, before biting back his words, finally saying, “Hows your eye? Let me see.”

It stings as he wipes the blood from her face, only to be replaced by a fresh flow that seeps from the wound. “Can you see out of it?”

“I can, a little. It's blurry, but...”

He breaths a sigh of relief, a lopsided grin tugging the corners of his mouth. “Thats always a good sign, right?”

She nods, just as the alarm springs back to life.

Except this time, it's coming from behind them, back the way they came.

“God dammit,” Hancock curses out, his eyes once again landing on her, blood still streaming from her wound. “Can you run, or-”

“I'll be fine, let's just go.” The last thing she wanted was to be sitting around when the horde made their way back around.

He must be thinking the same thing- he falls in step beside her, his pace slowing to match her own as they make their way back the way they came; out of the train and through the tunnel.

As they near the platform the alarm reaches a deafening high, and that's when she sees it. High above them in the ceiling of the subway tunnel is the circular alarm, crying out, it's red light casting a colored glow on everything around it.

“What the hell is going on?!” She has to scream to be heard, and even then she's almost drowned out by all the noise. What are the chances that the alarms just so happen to be going off in an order that would lead anything lurking down here into town? Double that with the fact that the wall blocking the entrance had been torn away, the odds were starting to look slim that it was nothing but a coincidence.

“We need to stop them from getting into town,” Hancock calls ahead of her as he crouches low, cupping his hands in front of him. Without missing a beat, her foot lands in his waiting hands as she's hoisted over the six foot ledge, back into the warehouse basement.

She turns, her hand out stretched to help him up as well, but he's already disappearing back into the darkness.

“Get all the help you can, make sure they're armed. I'm countin' on ya, Sister!” His voice echoes off the walls.

Avery stands, peeing into the darkness. Everything in her being is screaming for her to go after him, to help him, but somewhere deep in her panic stricken mind, a tiny voice speaks a thought of reason.

The two of them? They don't stand a chance against a horde that big, and not even Hancock can fix this alone. The longer she stands around, the slimmer his chances of surviving become. Her eyes land briefly once more on the entrance to the tunnel before she turns and sprints out the door, determine to rally as many people as she can.

 

 

\--- --- ---

 

 

_**Hancock** _

 

He curses at himself, his lungs burning as he makes his way blindly through the tunnels. Shits blowin' up around him, the town he's worked so hard to protect at stake, and all he can think about is...fuck.

He's about to march head on into a herd of ferals, still covered in her blood, and all he can think about is that one _simple_ fuckin' kiss, replying in his mind over and over again.

Hancock may not be the sharpest bullet in the chamber, but he's got enough life experience under his belt to know what that kiss meant to her.

Short answer: a lot more than a guy like him could ever even hope to offer.

He raises his shotgun to his shoulder, staring down the barrel as the first few ferals start to trickle in. It won't be long until the rest of them start pouring out like water through a hole.

A thought keeps running through his mind though, one that he can't shake, no matter how hard he tries.

What if, for once in his life, he actually deserves something...more?

He takes aim, pulls the the trigger and watches as his mark drops to the ground, dead the instant his bullet tore through it's skull.

Is it really that crazy a notion?

Another body falls as the pull of his finger, tripping the one behind it.

But at the same time, what more could he offer her that any other Wastelander Joe couldn't? God knows he'd give it his all, but if there's one thing John knows, is that sometimes, your all isn't enough.

Life had a way of reminding him of that every now and again.

Just like clockwork, the rest of the ferals start pouring out of the tunnel, each and every one of them eyein' him up like a prime rib steak ripe for the taking. He quickly reloads his gun, the memory of her lips against his fresh in his mind as he takes aim at the horde in front of him.

' _Why do things always gotta be so damn complicated...?'_ He thinks to himself as he pulls the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all hate cliff hangers, but this chapter was originally 8k words long, so I decided to break it into parts. Once again, thank you so much for reading! :)))


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. I had the flu, my 2 year old had the flu, boyfriend had the flu. FLU EVERYWHERE! And of course mom had to take care of everyone during this hell storm (while keeping up with art commissions as usual) so...yeah. Busy busy.
> 
> Here, have a wall of text. :) SORRY for the wait!
> 
>  
> 
> .

The sticky net of a ruined spider web clings to her hair, the sensation of tiny limbs crawling along her arm, but it barely registers as she scrambles over a fallen cabinet, blindly sprinting through the warehouse. Adrenaline courses through her veins, the pain of her eye forgotten, only a single thought running through her mind, repeating itself.

Help.

She has to find help.

Pictures flash through her mind, of Hancock standing alone, only his gun and blade in hand, the horde of ferals closing in before crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Replaying over and over, spurring her on. Something catches her in the shin, pain shooting up her leg, but she doesn't let it slow her, the exit now in sight.

The cool night air nips at her skin as she bursts through the door.

Instantly her eyes land on two women nearby, both eyeing her with confusion. Not that she could blame them, she must look like a madman; out of breath, face coated with blood, dirty from head to toe.

“Ferals!” She cries out, struggling to catch her breath. “We need help!”

The one woman she recognizes as Daisy puts a concerned hand on her shoulder, trying in vain to calm her. “You okay, doll? You got a nasty lookin' cut on you.”

And that's when it dawns on her. They think she's hallucinating, suffering from some head injury. “No, no you don't understand. You need to listen to me, okay?” She does her best to control her breathing, to sound sane. “There's a hole leading to a subway station in the basement of this warehouse and about a hundred ferals are heading toward town. Hancocks down there right now, but he won't be able to hold them off long, we _need_ help!”

They glance at one another, exchanging a silent conversation, before nodding. “Grace, go get the Burtche Twins, I'll go find Andy.”

“Wait!” Avery calls out to Daisy. “Have you seen Fahrenheit or MacCready?”

“Town house!” She calls over her shoulder before disappearing behind a corner.

Avery runs in the opposite direction, toward the Town house, pushing the giant wooden doors open.

But the building is dark.

Empty.

She calls out their names, her voice echoing in the building.

“They're out on patrol.” A man calls out from above, his foot steps barely making a sound. As he steps into view she recognizes him from his clothes as part of the Neighborhood Watch.

She runs her hand through her matted hair, panic setting in. She's been gone too long already, the only thing she can do now is hope they'll catch word. She looks back over to whats his name, whose leaning against the wall, eyeing her. “There's about a hundred ferals heading for town right now, they'll be here soon. I need you to gather as mane people as you can and meet me at the warehouse.”

His brow quirks up, a deep frown set in his lips, “And I should listen to you, be _cause_?”

All the panic and fear she'd felt boils over, almost as if a switch has been flipped. “Are you fuckin' stupid?” A rage she never knew she could feel slams into her, sends her over the edge. “Because I'm pretty sure I just said there's a small _army_ of ferals about to march into town, and you're standing around with your finger up your ass! I said go get help!”

His eyes narrow, but he makes no move to act on her orders.

“Oh, for fucks-”

She's marches over to him, ripping the walkie talkie from his chest pocket before he has a chance to stop her. “We have a situation underground, I nee-” he reaches out, trying to take the radio from her hands.

“Avery?” Fahrenheits voices comes through staticy as she shoves him off her.

She presses the button to talk as he grabs her roughly by the shoulder, his hand reaching out again, nearly knocking it from her grip. This time, she doesn't hesitate. Her fist lashes out, catching him off guard. He stumbles back from the impact, clutching his face, trying to stop the sudden gush of blood that streams from his broken nose. Pain vibrates through her bones, but she ignores it.

“Fahrenheit! It's me, Hancocks in trouble, there's about a hundred ferals heading for town, we need as many bodies as we can spare.” She says quickly, dashing out the door, leaving the prick kneeling on the ground, still trying to recover.

This time when Fahrenheits voice crackles through the speaker, it's not her she's talking to, but the rest of those on patrol, “You heard her, Jackson, Xavier, stay on post, the rest head over to the warehouse, pronto.”

Almost immediately people are already starting to show up, their feet pounding along the pavement as they sprint over. No less than a minutes wait and twenty or so people are now looking at her, waiting for her to give orders. Fahrenheit and MacCready included.

She gets straight to the point. “Listen, we don't have much time for questions. There's a horde of ferals making their way to town right now, we're talking close to the hundreds, and Hancocks down there holding 'em back.”

There's a quick murmur among the crowed before they start filing into the warehouse, guns at the ready. With Avery at the front they follow her to the back, down the stair case and into the basement. The alarm is still blaring, but not loud enough to blanket the pounding of fists against the other side of the basement door.

_If they're already in the building..._ Panic claws at her chest as she _g_ rips the doorknob, and rips it open, her gun at the ready.

Inside are about a dozen ferals that come spilling out the second the door opens. Instantly, bullets are flying past her, each aimed with perfect precision, hitting their marks; two of hers included. Their bodies hit the ground before they even had a chance to process the threat in front of them.

Climbing over the bodies littering the floor, she darts to the entrance of the hole.“Hancock?!” Just like the keen of the alarm, the tunnel walls amplify her voice, his name echoing through the tunnel. As the alarm winds down, she hears it- so soft that if she hadn't been listening, she never would have heard it.

The stifled crack of a shotgun ringing through the air.

“Hancock?!” She calls, even louder than before. Seconds later he be stumbles into the light below, covered in dirt and grim, splatters of dried blood clinging to his clothes.

He's panting heavily, his overclocked lungs desperate for air, “Cuttin' it close on time, ain't ya?” She steps aside as a few of the men help him over the ledge, hoisting him up by the arms.

As soon as he's over the ledge, he's barking orders. “They'll be here any second! Keep 'em from breaking through!”

As if on queue, the ferals begin to spill out of the darkness, a cacophony of screams and growls filling the tiny basement. The first shot rings out somewhere behind her as one of the ferals drop, it's corpse lost among the others now swarming the entrance. Avery raises her own pistol, firing as one throws itself over the edge.

The man directly next to her is suddenly knocked off his feet as a feral rips him into the tunnel by the ankle. There's only a split second for her to see the look of pure terror on his face before his body is swallowed up by the writhing mass of ferals.

She can see them push and shove and claw their way towards him, and if she listens very very carefully...she can hear his screams as he's torn apart.

“Push 'em back with everything you got!” Hancocks yell pierces the air, pulling her out of her daze. Men start leaping into the hole, their weapons firing off as more bodies fall. Her finger pulls the trigger and an airborne feral stops mid flight, it's arms outstretched, aiming for one of her men. He doesn't even notice as it's body slams to the ground, joining it's fallen comrades.

As they push them back further into the tunnel, more men leap into the hole to aid the others. “There's too many!” A voice calls out from below as a few ferals break through their choke, throwing themselves over the ledge.

Her gun clicks, it's chamber empty, as one crashes into her, knocking her off her feet. Her hand closes around its throat in an attempt to stop its snapping teeth from getting any closer as her free hand reaches into her breast pocket, her fingers closing around her blade. It's teeth are mere inches from her face as she buries it into the flesh of it's skull, the rotted bone splitting with ease.

“Lets go!” A boot lashes out, kicking it's corpse from her body as a man she's never seen drags her to her feet. In front of her, others are scrambling to get out of the hole, shouting at the others to retreat.

And then she sees why.

Standing at the top of the ledge is a robotic figure, one it takes her a second to recognize.

KL-E-O.

Her head starts to glow red with heat as a low hum fills the air. The man who helped her up drags her over to the other side of the room where the others are huddled against the wall, all their eyes on the assaultron.

_Whats going-_

A spark flicks between the antenna surrounding her head before a ray of crimson shoots forward, narrowing into a thin beam of heat and destruction aimed at the horde ahead. Their screams of rage quickly turn into cries of pain as the heat of the laser laps at their bodies, igniting cloth and flesh alike. Avery watches as they desperately claw at the flames before falling to the ground, nothing but charred heaps of ash. It's almost enough to make her feel bad for them.

Almost.

The hum of the assaultron grows even louder still, sending tremors throughout her body, almost as if she's standing next to a stereo with it's base on max. Red fills her vision as the intensity of the light climbs higher, the terrified shrieks of the ferals below coming to a climax as the flames spread, the laser now burning through flesh as if it were nothing.

Somewhere in the back of her mind it registers that the alarm stops, and the only sounds she hears are the dying shrieks of ferals and the base like hum of the laser, but even that too is slowly fading. KL-E-O collapses against a nearby wall, struggling to keep her head up, but the power drain is too much. The laser stutters once, twice, and then goes out.

Flames waft out of the tunnel entrance, the screams of dying ferals fading until the room is left in silence, save for the pained groans of the injured. All eyes focus on the wisps of smoke curling from the entrance to the tunnel, waiting.

Listening.

But as the minutes tick by, and the flames die down, it becomes clear that the only thing left in that tunnel is the charred remains of death.

The man next to her lets out a low groan, clutching his side. A woman is leaning against a near by wall trying to staunch the blood flowing freely from a nasty looking wound at her arm. The more she looks, the more wounded she sees. A quick head count comes up with two less people than what they came with...

Guilt snakes it's way through her chest. She tries to tell herself that two lives is nothing compared to the losses they would have suffered had she not warned them, but it does little to sooth the ache in her heart.

Averys hand reaches out to the woman against the wall, helping her to her feet. “Get to the infirmary and get that checked out, okay?” The woman nods at her before limping to the exit, and Avery watches as a younger girl slips her arm around the womans waist, helping her up the stairs. A few others follow her lead, some injured, some not.

As the basement clears out, she finally sees Hancock and the others talking in a corner near by. She lets out a sigh of relief as she looks them over; barely a scratch on any of them.

But the way they're huddled together, talking...

“He's been in and out of town all week, now that you mention it.” She catches MacCreadys words as she makes her way over.

“Who?” Her voice is hoarse from the smoke still clinging to her lungs.

Fahrenheit eyes the crowed, making sure no ones in ear shot before answering. “Finn.”

“Finn?” Maybe it's the exhaustion finally taking hold, but what does he have to do with anything?

“Keep it down, will ya?” Hancock hushes her, then motions for her to come closer. “It could be nothin', but when I was down there waiting for you, I thought I saw someone high tailing it outta there. He was pretty far away, but...”

“But Fi-” She cuts herself off, not wanting to be over heard. “You think _he_ had something to do with this?”

“Wouldn't put it passed 'im to try,” Hancock lights the cigarette balanced between his lips. “We're not sayin' this was his doin', not just yet. Soon as folks clear out, three of us are headin' down to take a look.”

Wait...

The three of them?

MacCready... Hancock... Fahrenheit...but not her?

“Is this your way of telling me I can't go?” It was suppose to be a joke, but the edge in her voice made it sound like anything but.

Something flashes across Hancocks face, gone before she can pinpoint it. “I think it'd be better if you stuck this one out, yeah.” His words themselves sound sincere enough, but something in his voice falls flat.

And there's that look again. Cold, hard- as if he has to force himself to look at her. Is there something they're not telling her...?

“If you're worried about me holding you back, you can just say so, but if you're worried about my well being, I can promise you, I'm fine.” She'd meant for the words to sound reassuring, but they just sounded angry. Accusing.

The hardness in his eyes softens, just for a second, before it's back. He opens his mouth, but his words never make it.

“Dunno about you two, but the more eyes watching my back down there, the better.” MacCready cuts in, completely oblivious to the tension in the air.

The muscles in Hancocks jaw tense up, then relax and just like that, the cold look in his eyes is gone, returning to their normal, laid back demeanor. He shrugs. “Alright, if you're up for it, Sister.”

Avery eyes him up, looking for...fuck, she doesn't even know. He's always been protective, that's nothing new, but this...it's more than that.

She'd figure out why. Eventually.

Just not now, with Fahrenheit eyeing them both up, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Yeah.” She nods her head, trying to sound more like herself. “Yeah, I'm ready when you are.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The four of them eye the row of monitors hanging along the wall, all but three broken. Averys gaze flicks between them, each black and white image a familiar sight. The first screen shows the train she and Hancock had taken cover in, a few ferals still roaming around, but nothing to worry about. In the corner she can make out the shape of an alarm, the one they'd originally heard.

The next one shows the entrance to the room they're standing in now, hidden away on the side of the subway tracks. Avery could only guess it had once served as a security or maintenance room at one point.

The last monitor shows an overview of the platform that leads into the warehouse. Even through the low res, she can make out the charred remains of the ferals that had made the walk down a huge pain in the ass. With their corpses covering the ground, they had no choice but to climb over them, step on them. Their bodies would collapse in a puff of soot and dust the second her foot would put the slightest bit of pressure on them, screwing up her balance at every step.

She could still feel their grainy ashes shifting around in her boots.

“Just when I thought shit couldn't get any worse...” Hancock sneers, digging around on the desk in front of them. He tugs at the handle of one of the drawers, but it doesn't budge. “Take a look around, see if you can find any leads on this son of a bitch.” He fishes a bobby pin out of his pocket, sticks it into the key hole, and seconds later a soft click comes from the lock as it opens.

The quirk in his brow is all she needs to know that there's nothing useful in there.

The four of them fan out, searching the small room. Plates with molded food and various other junk litter the floor; crumpled papers, empty canisters of jet, needles. You name it, it's here.

Avery reaches for a nearby desk, picking up one of the crumples pieces of paper, hoping it'll give them a lead. As she gently unfolds the paper, she can make out the faded markings of a pencil. It's some sort of drawing that takes her a minute for her brain to piece together what she's seeing.

A crude drawing of what she can only assume to be a woman with over sized tits, and legs spread eagle is staring back at her. Theres a few dark spots on the bottom where something wet must have dried over.

“Jesus fucking...” she curses out, dropping the paper and wiping her hands on her pants.

“You find something?” MacCready looks over to her from across the room. Hancock and Fahrenheit stop what they're doing to look over to her as well.

“No. It's, uh-” Her eyes land on the desk full of crumples papers as her lips curls in minor disgust. “It's nothing. Don't worry about it.”

Avery can tell by the shared look on their faces that at any moment one of them, probably MacCready, is going to press for details.

And she's not about to explain to her group how she just stumbled onto someones porn stash. How she touched their...ugh.

“What's that?” She points to the corner of the room where a large wooden goose head is propped against the wall, partially hidden by a knocked over book case. Not that she thinks it's anything more than a distraction from the memories she's desperately trying to forget.

But apparently it's more than that.

“Someone tell me that's not what I think it is.” MacCready's voice has a certain pitch to it, almost panicked.

Fahrenheit and Hancock are eyeing the wooded sculpture too, each wearing the same look of disbelief.

“What?” She asks, looking over it once more, trying to figure out what has them suddenly so tense. Deep scratches are etched in the faded white wood, and dark stains of what she can only assume to be dried blood line the surface, but other than that...

Hancock pulls the head free from the rubble, turning it over in his hands, inspecting it closely. With each pass, the crease in his brow deepens. “Hate to say it, but I think it is.”

“But what's it doing all the over here? No way that son of a bi- no way he could have been holed up here.” MacCready takes the head from Hancocks grasp, looking it over for himself.

“Will someone _please_ tell me what's going on?” Avery huffs, more than a little annoyed.

“Swan.” Fahrenheit answers simply.

“Okayyy?” She drawls out, trying to get a better response out of her.

“It's a Behemoth,” Hancock answers instead. “ A super mutant with triple the strength, triple the size, and a quarter of the brain cells. Lives a couple miles off from here in the middle of raider territory. Folks tend to keep their distance, and for good reason.”

“You think it came through here?” Avery looks at the three of them. If it's as big as Hancock says it is, then how would no one notice something like that lurking around in the subway?

“You kiddin? Something that size wouldn't even fit in these tunnels.” Hancock waves her off. “Whoever was holed up here must have been in the area. Dunno how they'd get their hands on this though, unless...”

“I been hearing some rumors,” MacCready sets the swan head down on a nearby desk. “People are saying theres a pretty big group of super mutants over there too. Pushing the raiders out and takin the place for their own.”

“Yeah?” Fahrenheit asks. “And how much can we trust these rumors?”

MacCready shrugs.

“Wait.” Avery shakes her head. “Hold on, you think this is linked with the super mutant attacks? Isn't that a little bit of a stretch?”

“By this point, Sister, I wouldn't be surprised.” Hancock leans against the wall, lighting a cigarette.

“Would explain some of the other weird shit going on.” Fahrenheit pinches the bridge of her nose, sounding more annoyed than anything. “Couple months ago we had two families murdered in the night, throats slashed. Not long after, a bunch of our supplies were stolen. Found 'em about half a mile out the next day- just sitting there in boxes.”

Well, that's a lot of new information to take in.

And true, it definitely pointed toward more than just a coincidence, but what would anyone gain from attacking Goodneighbor? The answer comes to her before she even has a chance to finish the question.

In this world; everything. It's a secure location, sturdy walls, well kept buildings. It's like the equivalence of a high security army base from her times.

“Okay, so what now?” She voices her thoughts out loud.

Hancock pushes away from the wall, facing the three of them. “Fahrenheit, I need you to see if you can get any intel, find some loose lips,” he tosses her a pouch which Avery can only assume by the sound is full of caps. “MacCready, go rest up. I'll need you to head out at sunset, scout out Swan's Pond.”

Fahrenheit is already half way out the door before he's finished, but MacCready looks a little less than thrilled.

“Really don't know how I got dragged into your drama, Hancock.” He mumbles more to himself.

“Because I'm the only one who was willing to put up with that attitude of yours. Now go.” Hancock practically shoves him out of the room.

But when he turns to face her, it's as if he forgot she was even there in the first place. “You...uh- You should go get some rest too.”

There it is again. He's looking over her shoulder, trying to avoid eye contact.

“It's been one hell of a night.” He tries again when she makes no move to leave.

Avery stays rooted. “Hancock, I-”

A part of her wants to go, afraid that if she pushes too hard, she'll only end up chasing him away.

But the other half of her...

“If...if this is about the kiss, then I-”

He holds his hand up, cutting her off. “Stop.”

A pit forms in her stomach as his words ring in her mind.

No explanation, not even an excuse, just....stop.

Her eyes narrow, waiting for him to say something, _anything_ , but his expression doesn't so much as flinch.

“I get it, I sprung that on you out of nowhere, I fucked up.” She takes a step closer to him, her eyes never leaving his. “And if you're not on board, that's okay, I can handle that, but I _need_ to know.”

For the briefest of moments his eyes flick to hers and she catches the swirl of emotions roiling around in his charcoal gaze. “It's not...I-” The muscles in his jaw tense, his words lost.

“Than what is it?”

He doesn't answer. Not with words, anyway.

With an action so small she almost didn't see it, his eyes briefly flick to the door, the cold, unreadable expression returning to his features. Without saying a single word, he tells her everything she needs to know.

“Fine. If that's how you want things to be.” She pushes past him, shoving him out of the way with her shoulder as she makes a bee line for the door, not bothering to look back.

Whatever his problem is, he can work it out on his own, but if he expects her to stand around and wait...

Her fists clench and unclench as she realizes that's a lie.

She knew damn well she'd wait.

Didn't want to admit it, _hated_ to admit it, but she knew she would.

She can't help but to laugh at herself and she pushes open the doors to the town office, looking for a certain someone. Since when did she become the type of woman to wait for a man? To just sit by while he decided rather or not he wanted her? She was better than that, she _deserved_ better than that.

And yet here she was, doing exactly that.

Which is exactly why she needs something to distract her, a way to release the anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

“MacCready!” She catches him just as he's about to leave. Motions him over.

“I have a favor to ask.” She digs into her bag, pulls out fifty or so caps, hoping it'll be enough. “Wake me up before you leave. I wanna tag along.”

He eyes her outstretched hand for a second, weighting his options before speaking. “Throw in ten more, and I won't tell Hancock, either.”

Her face reddens. Of course she'd forget to mention that part to him. If Hancock knew she'd gone behind his back to sneak out, he'd blow his lid.

But fuck him. He may run this town, but that doesn't mean he can control what she does. Avery digs around in her pocket, pulling out seven...eight...nine. Shit.

“Nine caps and you got yourself a deal.”

Without hesitation he takes the caps from her hand, tossing them in his bag. “See you at seven p.m.” And just like that, he turns and walks away as if nothing happened.

But somethings bothering her...

“Hey, MacCready.” He turns around. “How did you know that I didn't want...well, you know?” That she didn't want Hancock to know about her sneaking out.

He quirks a brow at her, an amused grin etched in his face. “You'd be surprised at what you hear when you just stop and listen.” He turns to walk away, but stops short. “And you know, you weren't exactly quiet about it.”

Her face goes pale. He heard that. Probably heard all of it. This time, when he turns to leave, he really does leave, and she doesn't stop him. Doesn't drill him for questions.

She got what she came for, she may as well enjoy that small victory.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long to update, and thanks again for reading and being so awesomely patient! Love you all!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo sorry! I got a new job thats been taking up A LOT of time, and by the time I get home and do all my adulting, I'm just too worn out.
> 
> But, by posting this story in the first place, I made a commitment to you all who enjoy it (seriously, thank you guys) to keep updating, so here it is, long overdue! (also, I didn't proof read it...)

 

Lucid dreaming. That's what they call it. Avery always thought it was a load of shit- being aware of your own dreams- but that's the only way to explain the scene in front of her:

_Shaun. Her beautiful baby boy, cradled against her chest, a content smile played across his features that makes her heart swell._

_Except...something isn't right. She looks at the sleeping child in her arms, her hands searching._

_Searching for....for what?_

_And that's when the thought rears it's ugly head._

_Not sleeping...dead_.

_The realization slams into her with a force no mother should have to bear._

_Her beautiful baby boy is dead._

_The house begins to shake, windows breaking, doors tearing open, and suddenly she's not alone. Silhouettes fill the room, reaching out, whailing._

_“STOP!” She screams the word, but nothing comes out as they come closer- closer. Shaun. They want Shaun. “Please!” The word catches in her throat, her body frozen as a deadly chill pins her down; holds her in place._

_“Please...please don't.” Her silent begging echoes throughout her mind as her body is helpless to stop it. Crimson tears stream down her cheeks, hot and thick. They fall, landing on the infant in her arms, and one by one, they burn away at his flesh._

_He screams, his tiny little hands reaching for her, begging for help._

_I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry! Her little boy, her world, her everything. She couldn't save him, not then, and not now._

_Her own screams begin to fill the air as everything around her fades away, cascading her into blackness._

_She'd had only one purpose in life; to protect the life she'd created. To guide him through his own life, to love him, to support him._

_'_ Make it stop...' _She begs again, clenching her eyes shut to try and stop the assault of tears. It's not right. It's not_ fair! _She would have given her own life in an instant if it meant he'd get a chance, but that choice was stolen from her. “_ Please just...just make it stop!”

  

**Tap tap tap...**

 

_The sound comes from behind her._

 

**Taptaptap**

 

_More frantic now._

 

**Tap. Tap. Tap.**

 

_She jumps as fingers brush along her cheek, gentle, soft, as a warmth spreads throughout her body, casting away the numbness that's taken over._

_Through teary, blood shot eyes, she can make out another silhouetted figure standing over her. A brilliant red covers it's torso in the form of a ratty, old, frock coat._

 

Avery bolts upright as fingers snap next to her ear.

Her heart is pounding in her chest, but from the hellish nightmare or the rude awakening is anyones guess.

When she looks over, she half expects to see Hancock standing beside her.  
  
Or, more than likely, MacCready. She can't help but to be disappointed by the thought, remembering. He'd agree to let her tag along tonight.

But when her eyes land on the figure next to her, she finds it's neither.

As a matter of fact, it takes her a minute to recognizes the somewhat familiar face in front of her, and not just because of the broken nose she'd given him the night before.

“What are you doing here?” She grumbles. “And haven't you heard of knocking?”

His lip curls up in annoyance. “I did, for about five fuckin' minutes.” A memory from her dream surfaces. The tapping...it must have been him knocking. “Here.”

He tosses a folded up piece of paper next to her, then walks out of the room without another word. Inside is a message, short and to the point.

_Meet me at the bank outside town._

Her eyes scan over the words once more before she tucks the piece of paper into the pocket of her jeans. There was once a time in her life where the idea of voluntarily doing something this dangerous would have had her rooted to the ground with fear.

Now? Well, now it was just another ordinary day.

 

 

* * *

 

 

MacCready was already waiting by the time she got there.

“Was getting worried my alarm didn't work,” He waved her down an alley that would likely keep them off the radar.

“You mean that clown you sent to wake me up?” He nods. “Why didn't you just come get me yourself?”

“You paid for discretion,” he shrugs as if the answer was obvious.

And thinking about it, it is. If Hancock had seen her leaving, that's one thing. If he saw her leaving with MacCready? Wouldn't take much to connect the dots, and while it's true that even if he had figured it out, there was shit he could do to stop her.

She just didn't want to deal with the after math.

“So,” she has to widen her stride to keep up with his pace. With only the moon to light their way, the last thing she wanted was to fall behind. “Anything I should know before we get there?”

“We'll be in raider territory soon, so there's that.” His eyes flick to her waist, to the gun holstered there. “They're in the middle of a turf war with the super mutants, though, so we should be able to slip past. Just keep your eyes up and gun close.”

She nods, not even phased by the prospect of running into the two lowest scums of the 'Wealth in one place. “And what about Swan?”

“As long as you don't step foot in his pond, you got nothin' to worry about.”

Duly noted.

For the first hour or so they'd passed time making small talk, asking questions back and forth; about life before the bombs dropped, what it was like growing up in the Wastelands. Her heart sinks as she listens to the stories of MacCready's childhood. While her biggest problem growing up was worrying about fitting in, his was making sure other kids didn't starve to death, or worse. Oddly enough, he seemed just as interested as hearing how she grew up. As if the idea of growing up not fighting for your life intrigued him. Not that she could blame him.

But as they neared the edges of Goodneighbor territory the conversation had died as the terrain had slowly started to change.

She's not saying the radiated world of today is anything to look at, but here? In this section of the city? Bullet holes dot the buildings, discarded shells litter the streets. Tattered clothing spotted with what she can only assume to be blood hang from crosses erecting from the ground. In the near distance she can almost make out the silhouette of a body speared through one of said structures.

Her senses suddenly become more aware, ready to pick up anything out of the ordinary. A few gun shots ring out in the distance, echoing off the ruined walls of the buildings surrounding them, making hard to pin point exactly where they're coming from.

So long as they keep quiet, and stay low, they shouldn't have any trouble.

And for the most part, they don't. As they wonder the ruined streets of the city, guns continue to fire off, some close, others far off. A few bodies lie along the streets, but that's nothing new. At one point they slip behind a building to avoid a group of people a couple meters ahead, although they looked unarmed.

Otherwise, things go smoothly. The night grows darker as the hours tick by, and so does the scenery before them.

The bullet holes that dotted the ground turn into craters in the road, and the smell of death that hovered in the air has grown stronger and stronger as they make their way further in.

But the worst part?

The silence. No more gun shots ringing in the distance, no more clipits of conversation drifting from the windows above. Even the sounds of the neighboring wildlife has died.

Which can only mean they're getting close.

But, still, something didn't sit right... “MacCready?”

“Hm?”

“Didn't you say Swans pond is in the middle of a raider/super mutant war zone?”

He ducks down an alleyway, and she follows. “Yup.”

“So...” her eyes survey their surroundings once more before asking. “Where is everyone?”

He reaches above them where a rope is dangling from a fire escape, and gives it a quick tug. The stairs slide down with a metallic whine that makes her cringe. “Been wonderin' the same thing. This part of towns usually crawling with trouble.”

The ladder lets out a groan of protest under his weight, and Avery waits until he at the top before stepping on herself. The metal practically bends under her feet, and she starts to second guess herself. If this thing snapped, it wouldn't turn out good, especially at thirty or so feet above the ground. The structure shakes and sways with each step; a fact in which MacCready seems to be unaware of, or just doesn't care.

He just walks ahead, putting way too much confidence in this ancient structure.

He doesn't even bat an eye as he leaps from the end of one escape to another that seems to be barely clinging to the neighboring building. Avery on the other hand...

It's only a five or six foot gap. She _knew_ she could make it, and yet as her eyes look past the grates, and to the ground nearly three meters below...

The fire escape shakes alarmingly as she takes the last few strides with a running start, leaping effortlessly to the other side where MacCready is waiting.

“Over there,” MacCready motions with a nod ahead of them where a pile of bodies lay scattered on the ground below.

Two things are apparent; one, is that whatever killed all these poor sons a' bitches is long gone, and two, they've been dead for quiet a while, judging by the stench and the few ferals circling the area below.

“So, what now?” Her words pierce the silence that had fallen over them.

“Plans still the same; get in there, check it out, and leave. Just try not to fall,” He shrugs as if it's that easy.

“Yeah, I'll just use my wings and fly my way over...” MacCready snorts at the sarcasm in her words, but offers nothing more.

The next gap between buildings is hardly a jump at all, more of a step, actually. Easy enough.

The one after that, however...

A eight foot gap leading to a fetal fall stands between them and the neighboring fire escape. There's no way she'll be able to make that, hell even MacCready wouldn't be able to jump that. “What now?” She looks over to her companion, expecting him to say 'go back,' or 'we find another way.'

“Remember, just don't fall.” He shoots her a cocky grin before breaking into a short sprint, the grate shaking as he pushes off the ledge with his foot at the last second.

And lands perfectly.

She lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding as he turns toward her, that cocky grin still on his lips. “You comin' or what?”

Avery shakes her head, “If you honestly expect me to even _attempt_ that, you're seriously-”

A sharp _snap_ cuts her words short as the bolts tethering the framework to the cement wall break free. MacCready lurches forwards, catching on one of the guard rails.

“Hold on!” She breaks into a full on sprint just as another bolt breaks free, inertia sending his body over the edge.

For a second, his body teeters on the edge, arms flailing, trying to keep himself upright.

But as the last bolt breaks free, the entire structure comes tumbling down.

Taking MacCready with it.

Her own scream echoes in her ears as she watches his body fall, nearly tripping over the ledge herself, grabbing the railing just in time.

His body slams off a tree branch with a crunch, halting his fall for a near fraction of a second before he continues his free fall, slamming into the ground below. The force of the fall bounces him off the hard pavement, sending him rolling.

Seconds later the framework of the fire escape follows, crashing down below.

“MacCready? MacCready?!” She leans over the edge, trying to see if he made it out. Seconds tick by without a sound, when finally, he lets out a loud gasp, his lungs desperate to replace the air ripped from his body.

“'M good,” he coughs out as she spots him, not even a foot away from where the escape landed. “Don't think I broke anything.” He groans, clutching his side.

Avery's eyes dart around, “ _Shit,_ how do I get down??

He staggers to his feet, takes a shaky step, then another. “No way around,” he stops to suck in more air. “Just meet me at the gates, okay?”

“How?!”

“Go left, next building there should be a working ladder.” A cough. “Take the first alley to your right, and then take a left.”

The idea of splitting up didn't sit well with her, but at this point, what choice did they have? It was a miracle he even managed to survive that, no way she'd be as lucky. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Probably.” He answers back, disappearing around a corner.

Okay. Okay, no problem. Next building, down the ladder, take a right, then a left. Easy.

Except as she nears the edge of the fire escape leading to the next building, her stomach drops. MacCready failed to mention she'd have to walk along a flimsy plank to cross the twenty foot gap blocking her way. No railings, nothing to stop her from falling.

As a child she'd balance her way along the edge of the sidewalk, pretending she was a circus performer, mimicking the sound of a roaring crowd cheering her on. How much different could this be?

The answer is _very._ The slight breeze in the night air nudges her to the left and she has to lean against it to keep herself straight. Each step bends the board beneath her, creaking with her weight, reminding her that one wrong step could leave her dead- or worse.

Crippled.

Vertigo washes over her in waves, knocking her to her knees, and it takes everything in her not to jump, just to get this over with. The less rational part of her mind says run. Close your eyes and just run. Hope for the best.

Instead she breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale...

One shaky step and then another, slowly inching her way across.

Just a few...more feet and- there!

Avery scrambles over the railing, her heart pounding, adrenaline coursing through her veins, relief settling over her. She takes the stairs two at a time, eager to be back on solid ground.

About a hundred yards ahead is the alleyway MacCready must have been talking about, but...

Cloaked in the darkness she sees glimpses of grayed flesh along the edges. Ferals. Their snarls fill the air as one by one they pick up on her scent, the metallic clink of chains rattle as they move.

Shackles. They're shackled to the walls...

But why? Then again...

Would it really be outside the realm of possibilities that the raiders put them here? To act as guards, or just a sick joke?

Drawing her gun, she steps forward, the feral nearest her lunging forward, claws inches from catching her before it's yanked back by the chains digging into it's throat. It hits the ground with a thud, and immediately begins clawing at the ground, desperate to close the distance. As she makes her way down the narrow alley, others continue to lung at her, but somehow it's the ones that just sit there, hunched over, staring at her that unnerve her the most. It's as if they'd given up hope of ever escaping, that they've lost the fight, the will to try.

It's the most human she'd ever seen one act.

Focus. She needs to stay focused. So far, she's seen two empty chains discarded on the ground and she didn't want to be caught off guard if their previous inhabitants decided to show up.

As she nears the end of the first alleyway, her pace slows, and then stops as her eyes catch something.

Old blood puddles around a super mutant laying dead in the corner, a metal pipe sticking out of it's head.

MacCready _had_ said this area was the mid-ground for a raider-mutant turf war, but still. The body looked fresh, dead maybe two or three days max. Whatever or whoever did this could still be close.

Avery slides her bag off her shoulders and fishes out an old pocket flashlight she'd packed, just in case. Of course, there's a chance that the light would give her away, but if there's something lurking down this alleyway, there's no way she'd see it coming without the help.

She takes one last breath before turning the corner, shinning the light down the alley to see-

“Oh god...”

The turn she's suppose to make, the only way out, is littered with the rotting corpses of super mutants. Dozens and dozens of them, strewn about along the pavement. Bullet holes, stab wounds, a few are even dangling by rope strung along the fire escapes above. Coagulated blood coats the ground, thick splatters lining the walls. And that sound...

She can hear the buzzing of flies as they feast on the bodies.

And then the smell finally hits.

She can _taste_ the rot in the air it's so strong; Suffocating. Nauseating.

Using her sleeve to filter the air, she takes a step, cringing at the slick feel of blood beneath her feet. The hot night air combined with the bodily fluids mixing on the pavement creates a sickeningly humid environment that clings to her skin.

Her feet slide along the ground, nearly knocking her over more than once. Having to walk through this mess was one thing, but the thought of falling, of actually touching it? Her stomach lurches. Maybe MacCready was wrong, maybe there is another way. It wasn't too late for her to turn around, go back the way she came and...and-

He couldn't honestly expect her to...

Her breathing quickens as panic rises, and soon enough, her sleeve is suffocating her. Without thinking, she pulls it away, sucking in air.

And immediately regrets it. Her stomach retches as the pungent air coats her tongue, leaving a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth that actually burns. She slams her sleeved hand back over her mouth, fighting the fit of coughs shaking her body, her careful steps are now frantic as the burning in her lungs grows, desperate for air. Every breath brings with it a new wave of nausea, building and growing until it's as if she's choking.

The bodies littering the ground seem to grow as she nears the exit until she's literally climbing over rotting corpses, their bloated flesh giving way under her weight. The smell is overwhelming to the point she can't even breath, and even then it finds it's way into her nostrils. Her head is swimming, limbs tingling as she fights her bodies natural urge to breath.

Their skin is wet, slimy, and cold in a way she never thought possible as she uses her hands to help volt her way over the mounds of decay. Her vision begins to blur at the edges as the end finally comes in sight. Just a few more...

Her foot catches on something, nearly tripping her as she stumbles out into the clearing, falling to her knees. Her greedy lungs suck in the air in between coughs as she struggles to regain stability, still fighting her bodies urge to vomit. Even out in the open, that god awful stench is still permeating the air, clinging to her clothes. Frantically, she wipes her hands along the denim of her jeans, trying to rid herself of the slime that clings to them.

Avery wipes the corners of her mouth before standing upright, still more than a little lightheaded when out of the corner of her eye she sees a familiar silhouette heading her way.

He stops short as he notices her state of being. “Are you okay?”

She shakes her head, pointing behind her to the alley she just escaped. Hesitantly, MacCready steps around her to peer into the darkness.

“Holy... how did you-” his face contorts as he glances back at her. “What happened?!”

“I- I don't know. They were like that when I got here.”

“And you walked through that?” The disbelief is evident is his words.

“You said there was no other way!”

“No...there's not, but still,” his expression softens. “Listen, if I knew it was gonna be like this, I wouldn't have told-”

“It's okay.” She cuts him short, just wanting to forget about the whole ordeal.

“Besides,” the smile feels forced, “I couldn't let you have all the fun, could I? Falling off that building and almost dying.” It was meant as a joke, but he doesn't laugh, instead he just looks troubled. Not that she can blame him, not many people would appreciate a joke like that. “Hey, sorry if I said something stupid, humors just how I cope.”

“No, it's not...” He looks off somewhere in the distance, chewing the inside of his lip in thought.  
  
“What is it?” A knot forms in her stomach, growing with each passing second he doesn't answer. “MacCready, if there's something you're not tell-”

“On my way over, I-” He cuts her off, pinching his brows between his fingers, a look of frustration hardening his face. “It could be nothing, but on my way over, I saw- I think I saw supplies.”

“Supplies?” Stupid as they were, would it really be that far fetched for the mutants to have a cache of their own?  
  
“No-” He grits his teeth. “I mean _our_ supplies- whole crates full of 'em. Things that would go missing that we couldn't find.” Her stomach drops as his words sink it, at the implications. “With all the mutant attacks, people started jumping ship- just picking up and leaving town. We thought they were taking them, and what were we suppose to do? Waste more resources tracking them down?”

“So...you're saying that these,” she gestures around them, at the countless bodies littering the ground, “are the ones that have been attacking Goodneighbor?”

“I'm not sure, but-” His whole body tenses as he stops mid-pacing. “That fucking bastard...”

Avery was no stranger to using obscenities when things got heavy, but to hear MacCready use them? She'd seen him get frustrated many times before, watched him stomp away when his temper got the best of him, but cursing? “What? What is it?”

“Finn!” He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “Those families, the ones that were killed. We knew what that meant, that there was someone on the inside, but murdering not one, but _two_ families to- to what? ” Her body jolts as his foot collides with a metal trash can, sending it flying into a near by wall. “There were _kids_ in those homes! Fuckin' _children!_ That bastard murdered them to give their shit to the goddamn cock suckers trying to tear down everything we're working towards!”

His fists clench and unclench in a vein attempt to control his anger, his body trembling. And what could she do? Tell him not to worry about it? Whats done is done? Truth be told, she could barely contain her own anger.  
  
Finn.  
  
She knew from the moment she laid eyes on him he was a scumbag.  
  
But now? There aren't enough words in the cumulative languages that could describe her disdain for him.  
  
But right now isn't the time to let emotions get in the way.  
  
MacCready tenses as she lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. “He'll get whats coming to him. Hancock and Fahrenheit are already looking for him, and out here, there's nothing we can do. Right now, we need to find out what the hell happened first, because if what you're saying is true, there's no way Finn could have taken down this many mutants on his own, which means he had help.”  
  
Shock registers on his face. “I-...god _dammit!_ I didn't even-” He shakes his head, lets out a shaky breath, reigning in his emotions. “Lets look around. There has to be something they forgot.”

Avery nods.  
  
The square, thankfully, isn't all that big. Between the two of them, it should be easy enough to scout out the area.  
  
And it doesn't take long before they find something.  
“Holy shit...” Avery breaths out, her mind reeling as she takes in the sight.

At first, they weren't able to find a thing, only more bodies littering the ground and the odd weapon laying around which they'd gathered to bring back to town. For obvious reasons, they decided to wait until last before entering the iron gates surround Swans Pond.

But it looks like even that was taken care of.

“As a kid, you'd hear rumors of Swan; some obviously over-exaggerated, but others would make you wonder.” MacCready steps closer, eyeing the giant behemoth. “Never put much thought into them, never intended to see for myself, but this...”

Avery looks over the giant corpse, easily the size of a three story house, and has to remind herself to breath, that it's already dead.

And not just killed, but mauled; as if whoever did the deed took pleasure in the act. What more is the way he was left, almost as if he was posed; head bowed, kneeling, held up by his arms restrained on either side of his head, shackled at the wrists to the concrete building behind. Disemboweled, deep gashes lining it's body, bullet holes dotting along it's corpse as if they were decoration; everything about it lets her know that, without a doubt, he put up one hell of a fight.

“It would have taken an army to take this guy down...how?”  
  
MacCready nods, but says nothing.

A nagging thought she'd been frantically trying to push back shoves it's way forth. The kind of man power it probably took to not only take down all these super mutants, but _this_ thing as well? What exactly did she get herself into?

And whats more, why? Why would anyone go through so much trouble over one town? Safe spots were scarce in todays world, but it's not like Goodneighbors location was safe to begin with. Who would go through the trouble of toying with them, sending super mutants to attack them, only to kill each and every one in a mass slaughter? And then there were the ferals...  
  
The more they found, the less sense everything made.  
Not to mention, what if they were being lead here? Not that it's outside the realm of possibilities that the clues leading them here were purely coincidental, but...

Call it sixth sense, call it instinct, but a growing voice in the back of her mind is screaming that something isn't right, and soon they'll find out why.  
  
Soon, everything will come crumbling down.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I'll try updating this more often. It's almost over, it would suck of me to take so long to update when we're this close to answers. <:O
> 
> As always, thanks guys!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone still readying, despite that super long break I had to take, hopefully updates will come weekly, or close to.

“Well, at least we don't have to worry about tip toeing around the pond...” MacCready voices the thought she'd been thinking.

“Yeah.” She allows herself one last look at the abomination in front of her, knowing it's something she'll see again in her nightmares. “Might as well get it over with. I don't know about you, but the faster we leave this place, the better.”  
  
MacCready nods in agreement and leads them over to a section of the gate that's been knocked down. Inside the park is much the same as the surrounding areas; bodies, bullet holes and a whole lot of blood.

Except, here, a few human corpses lay among count, mixed in with the mutants.

“Raiders.” MacCready echoes her own thoughts. “Looks like the group that took up home around here, judging by the clothes.”

“You know the raider groups by the way they dress?”

He shrugs, “Only the common ones. Some have a symbol tattooed or seared into their skin, others use clothing to stand out.”

Huh. So it's just like she'd thought- Raiders really are nothing more than over-glorified gangs. Albeit, crazier, blood thirsty Gangs that lacked any code of moral, but gangs none the less.

“What about this guy? He's dressed differently...” Avery stops short as she spots a body, partially hidden in a patch of overgrown bush. Grabbing a near by stick, she pushes the stocks out of the way, revealing more of the corpse.

It didn't take a detective to see that this was Swans work- not many creatures could crush a human to the point he hardly resembled one.

But through the gore, and blood soaked clothes, something about him stands out...

It's almost like she's a little girl again, sitting in front of the T.V, waiting for her favorite show to come on.

“The Silver Shroud...” The words slip from her lips as a whisper.

“What?” MacCready is ahead of her, having not realized she lagged behind.

“Nothing.” Logically, she knew it was just a resemblance...unless it wasn't. She'd seen ancient comic books laying around back at Goodneighbor, would it really be that hard to believe that someone read them and decided to replicate the famous costume? “Just this guys clothes look a lot like a character from a T.V show I used to watch. Nothing impo-”

Before she has a chance to finish her sentence, MacCready is at her side, and completely disregarding the state of the corpse, reaches out and rolls it over.

Now, out in the open, Avery can't deny the uncanny resemblance to the character she adored growing up. Hell, if the circumstances were different, she'd be in awe.

“You gotta be kidding me.” MacCready stands. “Idiot. Freaking _idiot.”_

“You know him?” Avery asks, feeling a pang of guilt at how casually she'd spoken about a possible friend of MacCready like she had.

“Kent Cononlly,” He rubs at his temple, sighs. “Good guy, but not too smart when it comes to survival.”

“Doesn't sound like the type to be wondering around out here.” Then again, neither does she.

“He's not.” He stands, offers a hand out to Avery and pulls her up. “But ever since he found that costume he's been getting himself in trouble. Not on purpose, but...” MacCready glances at the corpse again, gritting his teeth. “Went missing the night of the attack. We all thought he ran off, but he probably got the bright idea to follow the mutants back- got himself killed.”

It's yet another reminder just how easily one could lose their life, here one minute, gone the next. She'd asked herself the same question more times than she could count, but staring down at the rotting body of this man, the question raises again; how is she still alive?

And just like always, the answer is the same; Luck.  
  
“Should we...you know...” What, bury him? Drag him back?

“Nothing we can do for him now.” MacCready sighs before gesturing back to her. “C'mon.”

She takes one last look at the man below her before following MacCready toward the pond. His luck may have ran out, and in the worst way possible, but how long until she meets her fate as well? The only thing she can do is hope that when the time comes, it won't be as...violent.

As they approach the pond, Avery blinks hard, as if the sight before her is nothing but a sleep deprived hallucination. But when she opens them again, nothing changes. If she hadn't grown so used to the reality around her, she may have even screamed.

Bodies. Everywhere.

The water is tinted red with blood. Bodies float on it's surface, some so water logged they don't even look real. Around the edges are even more; some crushed, others ripped apart. Raiders, commoners, disfigured creatures that somewhat resemble cows. Skeletons, some picked clean, others still with flesh clinging to the ivory bones.

Signs dot the area, some written in a crimson shade that resembles blood; “BEWARE: SWAN.” “AVOID THE COMMON.” “DEATH TO THOSE THAT ENTER.” And many more.

Even with the knowledge that the behemoth is dead, the urge to run is strong, growing with each word she reads. It's as if the water itself is haunted by those who have perished, adding a weight to the air around them, suffocating, heavy.

The sound of rippling water causes her to jump, and for a split second she wonders if something is still lurking in the murky water. It's then that she noticed her companion is no longer standing next to her, but already knee deep in the muck. “What are you doing?!” Her voice squeaks in disbelief. It's as if the water hugs his leg, thickened by coagulated blood and rot of the bodies floating in it.

But he seems unphased by any of it, his eyes scanning over the carnage.

“You see these guys?” He rolls the nearest body over, digs around in it's pockets. “Never seem 'em before, but I got a feeling they're the ones behind all this death. If we can find...” His hand emerges from the dead mans pockets, empty.

Avery watches as he moves from body to body, utterly disgusted by the idea of wading through the water, but ultimately, he's right. Unlike the rest of the bodies, wearing ratty old cloth, and leather, these ones wore a uniform she was all too familiar with. Like any other soldier, Nate had worn the traditional green camouflage of combat fatigues during his time.

Where these men had found so many of them, she had no idea, nor did she care. Any symbolism these clothes may have once held were gone the second these lowlifes put their greedy little hands on them.

But personal feelings aside, MacCready was right. Why else would these guys be in one single area if not to attack Swan? More than likely, they were the front line.

Eyeing the blood red water, she's hesitant to step into it.

Can it really be worse than anything else she's touched so far? Doubtfully.

It's warm, awkwardly so, and the water floods her boots instantly, soaks the bottom of her jeans and climbs upward. The bottom of the pond is littered with debri, and she wouldn't be surprised to find a dismembered limb floating around. With each step brings with it a fresh cloud of stench trapped beneath the surface, almost like sewage, but thats not the worst part. It's the way the water clings to her, thick, and heavy, that makes her squirm.

 _Don't think about it. Do. Not. Think about it._  
  
Knee deep in, Avery slogs through the water, searching the pockets of a body near by, finding an empty pack of cigarettes, few caps, and some 10mm bullets- two of which she pockets for herself.

The others hold roughly the same loot, and by the looks of MacCready, he isn't finding much of anything useful either.

But still, they keep searching, hopeful that they'll find something, anything, that can give them more of a lead.

It isn't until almost an hour later, wading through waste deep, stinking water, that they do.

Tucked away in the back pocket of a particularly gnarled looking corpse is a note, half of it smudged away by water. With careful hands, she unfolds it, gently pulling the melted layers apart, cursing when a chunk breaks free, _ker-plunks_ into the water.  
  
Finally, she manages to unfold it without any more damage, thankful that it appears the torn piece was insignificant. Taking a breath, her eyes scan over the half worn note.

 

_He did it- that little shit actually did it. Got to hand it o u, di hink e ould, but was wrong. Those ferals should do some damage, weaken the r defenses. Makes our jobs a hell of a lot easier, that's for damn sure. Guess wh t I'm trying to say, is go d call on that Finn guy. Ken and I talked, and decided tonights the ni ht, those s per mutants won't be a pr blem any more._

 

_And, if we're lucky, we might get some e recruits out of the de ._

 

_-Smi a ._

 

Avery reads and then re-reads the note, trying to piece together as much as she can. As her eyes scan over Finns name, she can't help the surprise.

Not that it wasn't obvious, but...Hell, she didn't even know the guy and she still felt a sense of betrayal...

“MacCready, look.” She wades through the water, handing him the note. “A lot of it's smudged, but from what I get those ferals didn't do anywhere near as much damage as they wanted them too.” She can't help the smugness in her voice. They may have lost a few people, true, but there's no doubt in her mind that could have gone way, way worse. “Then there's something about the super mutants, and I 'm not sure about the rest...”

His eyes narrow as he gets to the part about Finn, but he doesn't look the least bit surprised. Finally, he folds the note up, pockets it. “I think they planned on recruiting the neighboring Raiders.” He scans the area, “ And judging by the sever lack of bodies, I'm guessing they got quiet a few new members, too. Probably more than enough to replace the ones they lost.”

“But why? And whats Goodneighbor have to do with any of this?”

He shrugs, “If I had to guess, they probably want it for themselves. Towns got a good reputation in the worst kind of ways.” He tucks the note away, careful not to do any more damage. “We still need to figure out who the hell these guys are...Here, help me.” MacCready makes his way to the shore, and she follows.

Once there, he grabs a near by body, one in combat fatigues, and starts undressing it. Not even bothering to question him, she reaches down and works the mans arms free of his shirt. “Maybe Hancock'll know who these guys are...”

She nods, pulling the shirt from over his head and handing to MacCready. He reaches into his bag, pulls out a smaller, empty one and shoves the blood soaked clothes inside, then slings it over his shoulder. “Dunno about you, but I'd say we're done here.”

“I was starting to get worried we'd never leave,” She jokes, grabbing his outstretched hand so he can help her to her feet.  
  
_It's gonna be one hell of a walk back to Goodneighbor,_ she thinks to herself, just as the first drop of rain lands on her nose.

 

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Goodneighbor is in view, the sun is already peaking over the horizon. How long were they even gone for? She didn't even know by this point. Didn't really care that she didn't know.

Miserable. She was abso- _fuckin_ -lutley miserable.

The rain had completely soaked her clothes, even her bra and panties were dripping wet by this point. Not to mention it had been an extra long walk back to town with all the crap they looted, and she'd been tired to begin with.

And then there was Hancock. Avery knew, not a doubt in her mind, that when she got back he wouldn't say shit. Hell, he'd probably pretend she wasn't even there, and _thats_ whats got her down. She could deal with his temper, could deal with anger, annoyance, disappointment, but indifference? People say the opposite of love is hate, but that's not true. If someone had the energy to hate you, that meant they felt strongly enough to at least _feel_ for you.  
  
No, the opposite of love is indifference. She could deal with Hancock being upset with her, but she couldn't deal with the possibility that he just...wouldn't care.

But whatever side of Hancock is waiting for her back home, she knew she'd have to deal with it eventually, no matter how much it could hurt her.

She's so lost in her own thoughts, she doesn't even notice as MacCready lags behind. “Here.” She turns just in time to see a pouch flying her way, barely manages to catch it.

“Whats this?” Opening it, she peers inside, the dull metal of caps staring back at her. “Wait, is this the money I gave you?”

He nods, stepping around her. “If I'm honest, I thought you'd slow me down, tagging along and all.” He sends her an apologetic smile, “But I'm pretty glad you did. Dunno how I'd have managed without your help.”

Avery looks down at the small pouch of caps in her hands, grateful. It was no secrete he had a reputation for being frugal, despite never being short on caps, so for him to do something like this? Appreciation didn't quiet do her feelings justice.

But it brought something to question, “Hey MacCready, how come- if you don't mind me asking, how come you're so...” How do you ask such a question nicely? Is there even a way?

“Stingy?” He surprises her by saying.

“Well, I was going to say 'frugal,' but yeah. Stingy works.”

He laughs, then looks ahead into the rising sun, thinking. “I...have a son.” He takes a deep breath, exhales, then continues. “Duncan. He's...sick. Real sick. Whatever I make out on the field goes straight to him, for care, for food, for...everything.” he laughs, but it sounds hollow. “Made a promise to him, that next time he sees me, I'd be a better person, a better man, but...hell, I don't even know if I'll ever get to...” His voice falls short as he tugs his hat down, partially covering his eyes. He's silent for a moment, before clearing his throat. “Point is, everything cap I make, goes straight to him. C'mon.”

He walks ahead, leaving her rooted behind while a familiar hallow cuts deep in her gut as she thinks about her own son, how helpless she felt, how useless, when she couldn't protect him. MacCready had a reputation as a crook, overcharging people in need and draining them for every penny, but could she blame him? If money could bring her son back, could she say she'd do things differently?

“Hey, wait.” She calls out, having to shout over the rainfall as she pulls out a healthy looking pouch, full of caps, from her bag. Last she checked, there were close to four hundred. “Trade ya?”

He side eyes the pouch, a small smile crossing his lips. “Wow, I give you a sob story, and you give me all this?” He doesn't reach for it, but she can tell he wants to. “How do you know I'm telling you the truth?”

Avery stops, knowing all too well the game he's playing. At the guilt he feels, getting hand outs. “I-” She has to breath back the tears stinging her eyes. “I lost my son. Back in the vault, I watched someone, a man I don't even know, shoot and kill both my husband and child. You can't fake pain like that MacCready, you just can't.”

His eyes reflect the same hurt and sadness she's sure is in her own. “I wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anyone. Take it, please. If you feel like I'm giving you a hand out, then pretend it's payment for teaching me a thing or two, just take it.” She tosses the pouch toward him, sure he'll catch it.

And he does. “I...” His eyes dart from the pouch, to her. “Thank you, Avery. I don't say this often, but...you're a good friend. Really.” For the first time since they met, his smile seems truly genuine as he tucks the caps safely away in his pocket.

They walk the rest of the way to town in silence. What started out as simply needing time to herself had turned into something so much more. MacCready had always felt so distant, and now she knew why, and while what she gave him probably wasn't much, it was enough.

A familiar strawberry blonde waits ahead, standing in front of the gates of Goodneighbor. “There you two are!” Fahrenheit calls out, waving an arm above her head.

“Hey, look, we got our own welcome party!” MacCready says, loud enough for the other woman to hear.

Well, shit. Avery hadn't realized it until now, but it seems like ages since she's seen anyone other than MacCready. “Never thought I'd be so happy to see big ol perma-scowl.”

Fahrenheit flips her off. “You,” she points a finger at Avery. “Are in some deep shit. Hancock was pissed when he found out you left.”

Well, well, well. Looks like he does care. “Figured as much. What's he gonna do though, ground me? Been a hot minute since that happened.”  
  
Fahrenheit slaps a hand on her back, the other on MacCreadys, smiling. “Looks like you guys got a decent haul,” the smile fades from her lips. “Find anything...else?”

They both knew what she was talking about...

“Yeah.” MacCready responds, his voice carrying a certain weight to it. “We'll talk about it once we group up with Hancock.”

She doesn't prod anymore, and just like that, the easy going mood is gone as the three of them head through the gates of town, and into the building where their, no doubt, pissed off mayor is waiting.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Avery doesn't hesitate at the door leading into Hancocks office, doesn't give herself the time to. Without slowing her pace, she files in right behind the others, spotting him instantly, sitting on the couch, mid puff of cigarette.

His eyes are on her in a second, and the look he gives, it's as if he wasn't entirely sure she'd come in the first place.

And then they narrow, just for the briefest of moments, before focusing on MacCready. “Well?” He sinks back in the couch, blowing out a puff of smoke.

MacCready walks to the parallel couch, digging the note out from his pocket, but not handing it over. Fahrenheit takes the spot next to Hancock, and Avery settles on standing on the side, unable to sit across from the man whose gaze can kill.

“We made it there no trouble.” MacCready starts, all eyes falling on him. He recounts all the events that happened; how deserted the place was, the bodies, Swan. For the most part, Hancock listens quietly, giving no indication of what he may be thinking, but even he can't control the look of surprise when hearing about Swan, of anger when MacCready mentions Kent. Finally, MacCready digs into his bag, setting the combat fatigues they took from the raider on the table. “The guys we were telling you about were wearing these, or some variation of. Never seen 'em before myself, but thought maybe one of you might know something.”

Hancock unfolds the clothes, eyeing them carefully before shaking his head. “Ain't got a clue.” Both men look over to Fahrenheit, a slight frown on her face.

“I think I heard something about a group southwest of here, but last I knew they were a bunch of nobodies.” She leans into the couch, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Can't for the life of me remember shit worth shit about them. Just that, from what I heard, they were a dying bunch, hardly the man power to pull something like this off.”

Hancock nods. “See if you can get any intel, then get back to me,” Hancock turns his attention to MacCready, completely ignoring Avery. “Find anything else?”

“As a matter of fact,” He tosses the note onto the table. “Saved the best for last.” The two men share a brief moment of eye contact before Hancock reaches down, gently unfolds the note.

Fahrenheit leans into him, reading over his shoulder. Avery watches as their eyes scan over the words. Once, twice, three times.

“That son of a bitch!” Fahrenheit curses out loud, gritting her teeth. “I knew he was hiding something.” The couch squeaks as she shoves off it, stomping out the door.

Hancock simply tucks the note away in his pocket, stands, and follows the other woman.

“Wait,” The words leave her mouth before Avery has time to stop them. By the time she realizes what she's said, it's too late, all eyes are on her; Hancocks included. “I- um. I mean, that's all? You read that right, right? Finn was the one who orchestrated that whole feral attack, and you're just going to get up and leave without saying anything?”

Hancock snorts, “You think I'd let him just run off after seeing him sneaking around down there? While _you_ were out gallivanting, I sent out a search party. They hauled him in about an hour ago, about a two miles outside town.”

MacCready stands, “Wait, so you knew about this already?”

Hancock shakes his head. “Said he was tired of all the attacks, that he wanted nothin' to do with it anymore.” He grabs his knife off a nearby table, runs his fingers along the blade. “But with proof life this, I think he just needs a little...'persuasion.'”

MacCready waves his hand dismissively, “If it's the same to you, I think I've seen the insides of a enough people for the day. I'll skip.”

Hancock nods, and without extending the offer to her, leaves. She sighs, more of aggravation than anything when an elbow nudges her side. When she looks over, MacCready is nudging his head towards the door, mouthing something.  
  
It only takes a few seconds to understand he's telling her to follow Hancock.

“But-”

“Go.” He lightly shoves her forward, and for whatever reason, she does. What the hell does MacCready hope to happen by having her follow after Hancock? She wasn't an idiot, she knew that by 'persuade him to talk,' he meant torture, and as much as she hated Finn, that was _not_ something she wanted to be involved in.  
  
So why is going along with it? Why is she following Hancock down the spiraling staircase, into the lowest levels of the town house?

And why, when he finally sees her catching up to him, doesn't he say a god damned thing?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like some feedback on how the plots progressing, if anyone would be so kind as to give it. I don't want it too slow/fast, and I wanted it to be a bit of a "mystery" but at the same time I want the clue to be logical and believable and not seem like they were just thrown in there. Thanks again, guys!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to recap, I've placed warnings for "talk of rape," "Implied rape," "baby death," "gore and blood," and "cursing."
> 
> You guys won't mind a little torture, will you? 
> 
> WARNING, just in case. Lol

Avery silently follows Hancock down the spiral staircase, into the lower floors of the building. While the two upper floors are decently cared for, here is a different story; a thick blanket of dust covers the floors, the ceiling, and everything in between. Broken furniture is scattered across the floor, lamps bolted to the wall acting as sources of light to replace the busted and damaged ceiling lights.

She follows him left at the bottom of the staircase down a short hallway, where she sees the rusted bars of a metal cage at the end.  
  
And it seems Fahrenheit already beat them there.

“You really think we're that fucking dumb? We know what you did, Finn, so quit the shit!” The rage in her voice makes Avery shiver. Fahrenheit wasn't a woman you wanted to mess with, and that's coming from someone whose only seen her on her good days.

“Cool it, will ya?” It's Finn. “You come in here, screamin' in my face like that, an' you expect me to _help_ you?” He laughs, a sharp sound. “Good luck on that, Sweetheart.”

Avery can practically feel the swift blow Fahrenheit delivers to the other man.

She follows Hancock down the rest of the hallway, into a small, closet sized room, bare except for a single wooden chair seated in the middle, and a bucket filled with piss, judging by the smell. As they enter the room, Fahrenheit takes a step back from Finn, nodding to Hancock.  
“Get up.” Hancock orders, eyes never leaving the man hunched over on the floor where Fahrenheit left him.

Finn mutters something under his breath, before meeting his gaze, “Well, would ya lookat that,” a smug grin tugs at his lips. “The Mayor himself here to pay me a visit, to what do I owe the pleasure?” When he stands, she can see his arms are tied behind his back. Good.

“Quit the shit,” Hancock leans against the wall. “You know why I'm here.” Finn opens his mouth to speak, but doesn't get a word in before; “And spare me the 'innocent' act, I ain't in the mood.”

Finn slumps back lazily in the chair, grin still plastered on his face “Throwin me off here, Hancock, we got two 'bad cops' in the room.” His eyes flit over to Avery, “So that makes you the 'good cop', right? Cause I gotta say, I'm diggin' it.”

He's waits for her to say something, and when she doesn't, he turns his attention back to Hancock. “An' I hate to tell ya, but it ain't an act. You got the wron-”

Hancocks fist hits him square in the jaw, the sharp clack of his teeth colliding makes Avery wince.  
  
“The fuck was that for?!” Finn wipes the blood trickling down his jaw away on his shoulder. “What ever happen to 'innocent 'til proo-” Another swift blow cuts him off.

And then another, and once more; the force of the last hit sends the chair toppling over, Finns head slamming -hard- into the concrete floor.

Hancock doesn't miss a beat, grabbing him by the collar and yanking the other man, chair and all, upright. In a motion so quick, she doesn't even see it, his blade is out, pressed against the sensitive skin of Finns throat. “I told you, I ain't in the mood.” Hancock hisses, his voice low.

Finns head lulls forward, blood trickling down his jaw, leaking from his nose. He spits something out of his mouth that sounds like a tooth when it hits the floor. “H-hey now.” He coughs, that shit eating grin making an appearance. “You wouldn't kill me, not without proof, in front of your girl, would ya?”

Blood beads around the edges of the blade as pressure cuts away at the skin at his neck. “Avery.” Hancock speaks her name more as an order, and it takes her minute to realize he wants her to get the note of out his pocket.

It's stupid.

It's pathetic.

But, despite the seriousness of the situation, the second her fingers dip into the entrance of his pocket, so close to the delicate skin of his hip, it makes her breath hitch.

 _Get it together._  
  
Her fingers brush along the folded paper, and she has to remind herself to be gentle as she tugs it out of the tight fabric of his pants. Finns eyes never leave her as she fumbles with the note, unfolding it before holding it in front of his face to read.

Now sitting upright, his eyes scan the page, the corners of his lips falling with each word, disappearing into a tight line as he skims over his own name.

He's silent for a minute, his eyes flicking between the paper and his captors. “That don't mean shi-”

His sudden scream makes her jump as Hancocks blade finds it's way buried deep into his thigh. “FUCK!” He thrashes around in the chair, trying to free himself, anger twisting his features. “Son of a-” Hancock twists the blade, and she can hear the grit of it against the wooden chair beneath Finn as it rips through to the other side, followed by another scream.

“You were sayin' something about ' _proof_ '?” Hancock straightens, yanking the blade free.

Finn hisses through his teeth, panting through the pain. “Fuck. You.” He spits. “And _fuck_ this place!” The chair squeals along the floor as he struggles once again.  
  
They give him a minute, let him tire himself out, before Hancock speaks. “You ain't gettin' outta here alive, Finn, you gotta know that much.” he slips the blade under the other mans jaw, tilting his head up so he's forced to look him in the eye. “But I can make it quick,” the blade slides up along his jaw, resting on his cheek, the point centimeters from his eye, “or I can make it hurt.”

Avery watches, gaze never wavering as the two men stare each other down. She should be scared shitless, should want to leave, to not have anything to do with this.

Yet she's not. Not in the slightest.

Her mind goes back to the other night, to the men that had died, screaming in agony as they were ripped apart in a horde of ferals. The night she'd almost died.

None of that had to happen...It _didn't_. Have. To happen.  
  
But Finn had made it happen. He'd played his role in the deaths of those people, and he was getting what he deserved.

“How about we cut a deal, _Mayor,”_ he croaks out, eyes landing on her. “Untie me, give me a few minutes alone with our little vault-girl here, and I'll tell you everythin' you wanna know.” His eyes flick back to Hancock, defiance in his features, “'less you wanna watch- if you're into that kinda thing.”

Finn lets out another hiss of pain as Hancock rakes his blade downward, a thick line of blood instantly spilling down his face. The blade quivers in his hands, and just as Avery thinks he's about to strike again, Hancock turns on his heels, exiting the room.

Fahrenheit and Avery share a glance before following him out.

“Son-of-a-bitch thinks he's smart.” Hancock mutters under his breath, a cigarette pressed between his lips, bobbing with each word.

“He's playing mind games, “ Fahrenheit curls her lip, glaring back at the cage. “He'll break.”

“She's right.” Avery leans against the wall next to Hancock, “It's what people do when they know they're screwed.”

Hancock nods silently, taking their words in. “Still, if either of you got any bright ideas, I'd love to hear 'em.”

“Just keep going at it.” Fahrenheit stretches an arm over her head, nonchalant, as if she's _not_ talking about torture.

“And don't kill him prematurely,” Avery adds, more of a joke, “no matter how much he deserves it.”

His lips curve up in a half hearted smirk before he takes one last drag of his cigarette, tossing it to the side, then signaling to the two women to follow as he silently re-enters the room.

“Back already?” Finns voice is hoarse, the whole one side of his face covered in blood, his eye already swollen shut.

“How long you gonna drag this out, Finn?”

The mans face is so swollen and bloodied she almost doesn't see the grin spreading across his lips. “Ain't that what I'm 'spose to be askin'?”

Hancock paces around the chair, deliberate, slow, the sound of his boots along the floor threatening. “I'll give you one last shot to start talkin'.” He stops in front of the other man, waiting.

The only reply he gets is a wad of bloody spit flung across his boot. Hancock shakes his head, a look of genuine disappointment crossing his features. “Don't say I didn't warn ya.”

Finns screams fill the room once again as the blade once again finds itself hilt deep in his thigh. Through gritted teeth, he practically hisses the words, “Go fuck yourself.” With the jerk of his arm, the blade is torn lose, taking a chunk of flesh with it, bringing with it a whole new set of screams.

And the process repeats. Each time Finn refuses to answer, another slash of the blade, another chunk of flesh gone- none particularly fatal, but each more painful than the last.

And each time, Finns screams get weaker and weaker.

“Ready to talk yet?” Hancock stands over the other man, waiting for a reply.

Nothing.

At this rate, he'll be dead before they get any answers from him...

There's just one thing she wanted to know before.

“Finn.” Her voice is surprisingly calm as she addresses him. Finn struggles to lift his head, and Hancock has to step out of the way so she can meet his eyes head on. The words spill from her mouth before she has a chance to stop herself. “Did you do kill them?”

He squints, and it's obvious he has no idea what she's talking about.

“Those families. The ones that were murdered,” she clarifies. Out of the corner of her eye she sees a look of surprise fall over her companions faces, as if they'd forgotten about it as well.

Avery knew it wasn't important. Either he did it, or someone else did, but those children... _They_ deserved for the world to know who was responsible, and if that person just so happened to be Finn, well...all the better.

Understanding registers on his face and he laughs.

Her hands ball into fists and she watches him balance on the line of sanity, wondering what could possibly be so funny. _Don't kill him too soon, no matter how much he deserves it._ Her earlier words echo in her mind and she struggles to keep her temper in check.

Finally, he calms enough to speak. “Out of all the shit you got to worry about, you're askin 'bout a bunch of dead nobodies?”

Her eyes narrow.

“Answer the question.” Fahrenheit steps over to him, her own blade drawn.

“Or _what_?” He laughs again, the sound borderline psychotic. “You'll take another _fuckin'_ _ **chunk**_ outta me?!”

He chokes on his own laughter, which only seems to spur him on. Before, it was only an act, something to try and make him seem tough, but now? Now it's the laugh of a man looking death in the face.

Her hands begin to tremble as she tries to reign in the overwhelming urge to gut the son-of-a-bitch. _Don't give him what he wants. Don't give him what he wants. Don't_ give... The words repeat in her mind and she struggles beside herself when something oddly warm heats up her skin, drawing her attention.

Beside her, Fahrenheit holds a small candle, it's bright flame the only source of light in the room.

“Ohhh, what's next, burning wax?” He slumps back in his chair grinning ear to ear. “Knew a girl that was into that shit, didn't take you for the type, though.”

Avery watches as Fahrenheit takes her blade and runs it through the flame, lets the cool metal soak up the heat. “You have five seconds,” is all she says. All eyes are on her as she begins her count down.

“Five.” Avery watches as the defiance in his eyes quickly fades to that of understanding.

“Four.”

“You won't.” She can hear the fear in his voice.

“Three.”

“You fuckin' won't!” He struggles in the chair, harder than he ever has before, but the ropes hold tight.

“Two.” The blade is red hot now. Fahrenheit pauses an extra beat, giving him once last chance to comply.

“One.” Fahrenheit's expression is eerily calm as she presses the red hot blade against his cheek, the flesh burning away in seconds.

And then there are the screams. Screams like she's never heard before; primal, ear splitting, and most importantly; agonizing. His whole body goes rigid as his screams turn into garbled cries and pants, and then into silence as the blade begins to cool.

Only once the metal has fully lost it's heat, does she remove it, and Avery watches in equal parts disgust and awe as bits of skin stick to the blade, snapping apart when stretched.

His mouth moves, but no words come out. “I can't hear you.” Fahrenheit presses the tip of the blade against his jaw.

“I said I'll talk...” Finn manages between gritted teeth, fighting against the pain. “Just, stop. Please, just...” his voice falters. For a second, Avery thinks he may have passed out, or more...

“You ever see all that food they hoarded?” He starts, his voice weak. “All those guns? They weren't gonna share it, you 'n I both know it.” He lifts his head, the sight nearly makes Avery sick. Whatever skin that was left unburned was a horrible shade of bruised purple. “I asked nicely- at first...”

Fahrenheit's voice is barely a whisper. “Why?”

He chokes out a laugh, “Mutants couldn't take this place out on empty bellies, could they?”

He lets out a yelp as Fahrenheit's fist collides with cheek, the following crunch signaling at the breaking of bones. “And those kids?! Let me guess, they looked at you the wrong way?” She almost shouts, body quivering in anger.

“Somethin' like that.” He laughs, cocking his head to the side. “Got tired of hearin 'em scream. 'Mommy, mommy, don't hurt my mommy!' Little shits. You shoulda been there,” his gaze shifts to Avery, and she finds herself stuck, not wanting to hear what he has to say, but unable to turn away. “Kniffin' them in the gut was almost as satisfyin' as watchin' you two cower for your lives in that train cart.”

For a second she's suspended in time, her mind processing. This man, sitting before her, truly is one of the lowest human beings she's ever met. Even the scumbag that stole her baby boy from her showed some expression of guilt, it was gone in an instant, but it was there. Looking over Finn, she sees no guilt, only amusement.

The pocket knife in her hand shakes as her knuckles begin to turn white with pressure, all the while she tries to fight the urge to lash out, to kill. She swallows, hard, focusing on the pain in her palms as the edge of the hilt cuts into her skin. “Fahr.” It takes every once of strength in her not to act on her impulses, only the knowledge that she'd, without a doubt, kill the man before her, information or no, if matters were taken into her hands.

Silently, the other woman is beside her, the familiar heat of the candle close by. Avery watches as the remaining color drains from Finns face as he eyes her down. “Wait, no.” He struggles against the ropes, kicking along the cement floor, frantically trying to push himself back, away from the woman standing in front of him. “No, no- wait, I'll talk, I'll talk!!!”

“Five.”

“I don't know their name!” He screams above her, as if by drowning out the sound of the descending numbers, he'll somehow avoid the inevitable. “I only met their second in command, I know her name- ah, fuck, it's- it's-”

“Four.”

“K-Kacy-”  
  
“Three.”  
  
“No, no I remember, I remember!” The chair tips backward, but before it can fall, Hancock is there, his hand grabbing the other man by the throat, righting him up. “Kathy! happy Kathy! Her names Kathy!”

Fahrenheit's eyes narrow. “Two.”

  
“I'm telling ya, it's Kathy!”

“You're doing this to yourself, Finn.” Fahrenheit speaks softly as the smell of burning cloth fills the room, the red hot blade melting away at his clothes, and the sizzling of flesh following.

“The hospital!! THE HOSPITAL!” His words are almost unintelligible as he screams. “They're base used to be at the hospital!”

Fahrenheit stops. “What hospital?”

“I-I don't know.” He screams as she jerks the heated blade down, deeper into his leg. “I DON'T FUCKIN' KNOW!”

“You're gonna have to do better than that, Finn.” Hancock offers him, crossing his arms.

“I'm tellin' ya everythin' I kno- FUCK!!” The blade hit the seat of the chair as it pierces the rest of his leg.

This time, when Fahrenheit rips the blade free, his body goes limp.

Is he...? Avery squints at his chest, looking for the rise and fall of his breath. No, he's alive.

Barely.

“You buy any of that?” Fahrenheit stands, turning to face her and Hancock.

“I don't see why he'd be lying by this point,” Avery offers, looking to Hancock, trying to gauge his opinion.

Finally, he speaks. “I don't get the feeling he's lying, but if that's really all he knows...”

“We should just leave him here to rot.” Fahrenheit cuts in, glaring at the man, and Avery can't help but to agree. A mercy killing was the last thing he deserved.

“Yeah, and attract every radroach and bloatfly in the area?” Hancock scoffs. “As tempting as that sounds, I'll pass.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Finn begin to stir. His lips move, but the words are barely there “You...ain't shit...Hancock.”

The three of them turn to see Finn struggling to lift his head, struggling to fight for consciousness.

“You ain't worth _shit_ ,” He repeats.

If the words mean anything to Hancock, he doesn't let it show. Instead, he reaches to the holster at his leg, the metal of his gun glinting against the candle light as he pulls it out. “Any last words?”

“Vic,” Finns eyes never leave Hancock, despite the barrel of the gun point blank in front of him. _“He_ knew how to run the place. You?” He doesn't even flinch as the safety clicks off. “Goodneighbor was doomed the day you stepped foot through those gates. _”_

Hancocks finger slides along the trigger, “C'mon Finn.” the single, deafening gunshot leaves their ears ringing. “Why'd you have to go and say that?”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_**Hancock:** _

 

Shit ain't supposed to be like this. Sure, he expected some resistance when he'd taken over, but how long has it been? Nine, ten years? Hell, he didn't even know anymore. Goodnighbor was supposed to be the one thing in his life he could be proud of, hang his hat on and here it was, slowing being torn to pieces. These were supposed to be _his_ men, loyal to _him,_ but he can't say he didn't see it coming.

Finn always was a piece of work.

And then these new guys, what was their deal? They weren't the first to come in and try to throw him out, and he doubted they'd be the last, but something about the way they're going about it... Why go so far out of their way to cause trouble, why not just attack head on? Shit sounds way too personal to be about the town..

A soft gasp beside him pulls him out of his thoughts. The girl.

Avery.

Shit, he'd forgotten she was there for a second. Too caught up in his own thoughts, that was the problem.

And what a fuckin' problem it was.

“You, uh...okay, Sister?” She looks at him, nods, but something doesn't seem quiet right. “You sure, cause-”

Before he can get another word out, she spins on her heels, and all but bolts out of the room, and dammit all, if those weren't tears beading around her eyes, he didn't know what they were.

His eyes flick over to his body guard, hoping for once, she'd have some encouraging words, but the vacant look on her face tells him she's a million miles away, lost in her own thoughts. Vic wasn't an easy subject around Fahrenheit, even if it was just in passing conversation.

Not that he could blame her. He knew her past, heard the stories, understood all too well that some memories you just couldn't run from.

He rubs at the spot behind his neck, cursing under his breath, trying to ignore the itch spreading through his body. It's as if all his nerves are firing off at once, urging him on, the sensation only growing as he tries to resits the almost physical pull that damn girl has on him.

He was worried, but what could he do? Run out the door, hold her in his arms and whisper “sweet nothings” into her hair, going on about how sorry he was?

The radiation may be taking it's toll on his body, but he wasn't crazy enough -yet- to think that would actually work.

He'd fucked up; She'd confessed and he froze and fucked it all up. No amount of cliché one liners would change that.

When he'd seen her sneaking out the other night, he knew what she was up to. He'd been up late last night, trying to piece things together, to figure out a plan, when something drew his attention out the window.

His eyes instantly fell on her silhouetted frame on the streets below; any man worth his salt would be drawn to a sway like that. It almost made him smile, watching her head jerk around, thinking she was bein' sneaky, as she literally stumbled her way through the darkened streets of Goodneighbor.

She really thought she could tip toe her way out without him knowing?

This time, he did smile. Anyone who saw her sneaking around, heavy backpack around her shoulders, probably thought she was gettin' while the gettin' was good. Not him.

He knew.

“You'd better watch her, R.J,” He'd mumbled under his breath, watching her slip through the gates, disappearing in the darkness.

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like I promised, a new chapter by sunday! :) Also, thanks to you guys and all your wonderful suggestions, I found a way to take care some plot holes I was having trouble filling. Just a heads up, this chapter jumps between where last chapter left off, and about a week or ahead. It's marked, (* * *) to help know whats what.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!

 

 

“Is this _really_ the only place we can get that part?” MacCready lowers the scope of his rifle, his lip curled back in annoyance.

“You heard the man,” Hancock ducks behind the car they're currently taking cover behind. “Only place in the 'Wealth that'll have it.”

“Yeah, but _here?”_ MacCready shakes his head. “You really think the three of us got a chance against all them?”

Avery takes another glance at the building ahead of her, her eyes landing on the rusty old sign.

'Saugus Ironworks.'

“It does seem like a weird place to find a part for a synth though, doesn't it? Not to mention we're going on nothing but assumption here, he said it himself, it ' _might_ ' work.” She knew how important it was, but was it really worth their lives?

“Don't matter.” Hancock digs in his pockets, fishing out two clips of ammo. “We need that information.”

Avery checks her bag, coming up with even less, and MacCready was already on his last clip.

Her eyes scan over the hoards of raiders walking in and out of the building, at the heavy weapons slung around their shoulders. It didn't take a genius to know they didn't stand a chance.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Avery wipes the dampness from her cheeks, hating the tears still streaming from her eyes.

He deserved more. That sick son-of-a-bitch deserved so, _so_ much more than a quick bullet to the head. He should have suffered- should have died screaming in pain, begging for his life, knowing no mercy would be granted.

She was pissed.

No- livid. She was absolutely sick with anger that he didn't get more. Hell, the only thing that upset her more right now was the fact that Hancock was in there still, probably wondering if it was too much for her 'fragile mind' to handle. What was she suppose to do though? He'd seen the tears beading around her eyes, probably before she even knew they were there, and so she'd ran out the room before the rest could spill over.

What can you possibly say in a situation like that? 'Hey, by the way, the only reason I'm crying is because I'm so beyond pissed that that scumbag died so easily, despite all the shit he did.'?

Fuck.

She's certain of it. He's in there right now, wondering how traumatized poor little Avery must be, how-

“Hey, uh...you left pretty quick back there, how you holdin' up?”

Avery spins on her heels, surprised by the voice behind her. “I, ah...shit,” her eyes clamp shut in a vein attempt to staunch the flow of angry tears. “I'm fine, I just-”

“Listen, I...” There's that pity in his eyes as he searches for the right words. “I know, to you, that might'a looked pretty damn cruel, but it had to be done. It's just the way we do things 'round here.”

“It's not that-” She bits her lip. It would be a hell of a lot easier letting him think it was just too much for her, than to explain the truth, but...

“A bullet through the head?” She scoffs. “He _murdered_ two families, hell, even bragged about it. He stole _supplies_ , supplies we desperately needed and gave them to the enemy! This whole town almost got wiped off the map, and all he got was a quick bang,” she gestures a firing gun against her head with her hand, making a point, “and thats it?!”

Avery watches him carefully, notices the way his brow wrinkles in confusion, and then surprise as he finally connects the dots. “You mad he got off so easy?” The words are slow, almost uncertain, before his shoulders sag in relief. “Shit, Sister, and here I was, thinkin' you were upset 'cause I shot the guy.”

“That's exactly why I'm mad!” Her voice is sharper than she'd wanted. “He deserved to die slowly, in a pool of his own blood! That,” her hand gestures behind them, to the room where his body grows cold, “was way too good for him.” Avery bites back a new wave of tears, unable to wipe them away quick enough. “Fuck...”

She draws in a shake breath, trying to reign herself back. She wanted to tell him the truth, yes, but she didn't want to sound like a psychopath in the process. “I just...I'm pissed he got off so easily.”

Silence.

Long, awkward silence.

“Will you stop looking at me that way?” This time, it was suppose to sound irritated, but instead it only comes out as a mumbled plea. “I don't even know why I'm crying over it. I just- can we not talk about it?”

Hancock rubs at the spot behind his neck, looking away. “If that's how ya feel about it, then I won't pry.” She can hear the uncertainty in his word, knows there's more he has to say. He shifts, the floorboards creaking under his weight. “But I think it's worth notin', I agree. That sick bastard deserved more than anything I could ever cook up.”

Her body tenses at the sudden warmth at her shoulder- a gentle hand, a soft squeeze. This time, when she meets his gaze, she's met with an almost apologetic look. Her skin tingles at the simple contact, and it's a small comfort having him so close, but it's still somehow wrong. That look he's giving her, not pity, but...almost sad. Avery hated that look.“Well, if thats the case, you should have just given him to Fahrenheit, then.”

It was a poorly timed joke, but it has the desired effects. It's weak, but the faintest hint of a smile tugs at his lips, slowly widening as he says the next words. “If you wanna be that sadistic, hand 'em over to RJ. He ain't so nice when you get on his bad side.”

She scoffs, “Good luck waking him up, first.”

And just like that, with one good laugh, it's almost as if nothing bad had ever happened between them.

Almost.

“How 'bout we get you upstairs,” he motions weakly to the stairs, still wearing a trace of that smile, “you look like you could use the shut eye.”

Avery nods, knowing he's right, but can't bring herself to move. For all she knows, the minute she wakes up, he'll do another 180, from the kind, caring man she's slowly falling for, to the cold, stand-offish stranger she's sadly becoming used to.

Even if it's just for a few more minutes, she wanted to enjoy the time. “Not to be a bitch, or anything, but you're not looking so good yourself.”

He leans against the wall next to her, their shoulders brushing. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, Doll, but that's just my face.” He tries to keep a straight face, fails.

And dammit, if the grin on his face isn't contagious. “And I thought I was hard on myself, jeez.”

“You?” He scoffs, “Sister, I wrote the _book_ on Self-deprecation; World famous, baby.”

And there's that look again, that far off, sad look in his eyes. Thinking back, it may have been a bold move, but at the time, the action felt so natural, as if she'd done it a thousand times. Hancock, on the other hand, stiffens as her head rests on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. “You're right, you are too hard on yourself.”

Her heart beat fill in the silence in her mind, seconds passing, until, finally, his body relaxes.

They stand like that, leaning against each other in the darkened room, neither making a sound or movement, when quick footsteps above them catch their attention. “Where's Hancock?” The voice is muffled, but obviously female. And familiar.

“Lower levels, last I knew.” Another voice answers, this one male, probably belonging to one of the Watch.

Seconds later, those same frantic footsteps are pounding down the stairs as Doctor Amari comes into view.

Almost like two children caught in the wrong, Hancock and Avery bolt away from eachother, a whole foot of space now between them.

“Hancock! You need-” Amari wipes the sweat from her brow, obviously struggling to catch her breath. “You need to come. He's awake.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The sun is setting and all they've done was argue.

“We can't take on that many raiders, not just the three of us.” MacCready huffs, tired of repeating himself. “And not just any raiders, you see those guys? They're part of the Forged; a bunch of crazy pyromaniacs. We get any closer than we are now, we're toast- literally.”

“We can't go back empty handed and you know that.” Hancock shakes his head, his voice sounding more tired than ever. “Took us damn near a week to get here, we don't have the time to waste backtracking.”

“We won't have _any_ time to waste if we go in there. Look,” The sound of clinking metal catches Averys attention as MacCready removes the remaining two shells from his rifle. “You see this? That's all I got left, you really want me going in there on next to no ammo?”

“Who said anythin' 'bout shootin'? We go in, get the part, an' get out,” He rips the gun from the other mans hands, reloading it. “An' keep your damn ammo in your gun before you lose it.”

“Oh, for-” MacCready paces back and forth, mumbling to himself while Hancock goes back to watching the building, looking for any weak points.

Avery had her own opinions on things, and until now, she's stayed mostly quiet, but at this rate, they'd be sitting here for forever, arguing instead of doing. “There has to be a settlement _some_ where near by where we can reload, maybe take a break, right?”

“None that I know,” Hancock reaches for Averys wrists where the pip-boy sits, pulling up the map. He doesn't seem to notice the way her body shivers at the light contact. “If I'm remembering right, there should be a couple old cities riiigghht around...” His finger flick at the screen, zooming to a point about six miles northwest, “Here.” A hollow triangle appears on the screen has he marks the location.

“You really think we'll find anything up that way? MacCready eyes the screen from behind her shoulder. “Raiders probably got their hands on anything useful by now.”

“Only choice we got,” Hancocks grip loosens, fingers skimming across the flesh of her inner wrist, before falling away. “You up for a little extra hike?” The way his eyes capture her own sends another shiver down her spine.

Avery licks her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. “Yeah, sure.” ' _Anything you want,'_ She almost added.

MacCready clears his throat, drawing their attention, “Do I get a say in this? 'Cause if you're asking me, we're just wasti-”

“I didn't ask you,” Hancock picks up his satchel, slinging it over his shoulder. “I'm paying you for a reason.”

MacCready may not see the sly grin spread across Hancocks lips as he turns to leave, but Avery did. She swore, the only thing that man loved more than his chems, was getting a rise out of the ex-merc.

“Yeah, well, maybe I should start charging more. This is B.S,” He growls to himself, but gathers his things and follows none the less.  
  
  
* * *

 

“When did he come to?” Hancock pushes passed the doors leading into the Memory Den, Avery and Amari practically running to keep up with his wide stride.

“About an hour ago.”

“And you didn't think to get me sooner?” They make a sharp turn, descend the stairs into the basement.

“Why do you think I'm so out of breath?” Amari snaps back, releasing an aggravated sigh. “No one knew where you were.”

The muscles in Hancocks jaw tenses up, knowing it's true. He'd made sure no one but a select few knew his where-abouts, just in case there was another mole in town.

The door lets out a low whine as it opens, revealing the strange robotic man reclined in the booth, flipping through papers, probably the notes Amari had taken. When he sees them all enter, he sets them down on a near by table, folding his hands in front of him, grinning. It's a little creepy, Avery has to admit, how smoothly his face transitions, like a real human, just...off somehow. “Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Hancock.”

Well, shit. She was sure the voice that was going to come out sounding hollow, like a recording; just like in those old movies...and that accent. If she weren't standing right in front of him, seeing it for her own eyes, she'd swear that voice belonged to an actual human.

“Could say the same to you, Nickey. That mine did a number on ya.”

Nick hoisted himself out of the booth, wobbling a little as he stood. “Nothin' a wrench and some oil can't fix.”

Hancock eyes him up and down before looking at Amari, then back. “Not according to my friend here, it isn't. Says the impact knocked somethin' lose.”

“There's a lotta junk rattling around in the ol' noggin, never stopped me before.”

Avery knew nothing about the man before her, but one thing was obvious, he isn't a good liar. Hancock narrows his eyes, obviously not buying it, either. “Then you won't mind tellin' me what you were doin' all the way out here.”

Nicks shoulders stiffen, his expression shifting. With his good hand, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a familiar rectangular box. Apparently robots two-hundred years in the future have a taste for nicotine as well.

“Nick.” Hancock warns, his brows narrowing.

“Fine,” He touches the lit match to the cigarette held between his lips, audibly inhaling, wisps of smoke escaping his torn throat. “Been racking my brain tryin' to jog my memory, but I can't for the life of me remember what I was doin' out here. All I know for sure, is that it was important- and it had to do with you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You okay back there, Nickey?” Hancock looks over his shoulder, where Nick Valentine lags behind. “Haven't heard a peep outta ya all day.”

He looks up, offering a curt nod. “ Couldn't be better.”

“Still trying to remember?” Avery prys, already knowing the answer. The passed few days traveling with the synth has more or less desensitized her to it all. Just like with Hancock, and the other ghouls, she's more or less accepted him as being another person; all the same wants and needs, just a different exterior.

“Somethin' like that,” Nick adjusts his hat, taking a deep puff of the nub between his fingers. “Just got this feelin' that somethin' ain't right, and I know what it is, hell, maybe even how to fix it, but at the same time, I don't. It's drivin' me bonkers.”

MacCready stops ahead of them, pointing into the distance, “Look.” Avery has to stare through the dimming sunlight to see the run down motel in the distance. “Should be a settlement about a mile or two north.”

“Thats all fine and dandy, but we're not going to make it before nightfall, and I'm not too keen on the idea of trekking through darkness,” Nick scans the area around them as he speaks, almost as if he's expecting someone to pop out at any minute.

“Well, what about that old motel?” Avery squints, looking for any sign of movement. From what she can see, there is none. “It looks empty.”

“It's a little too close to Forged territory for my comfort, but it doesn't seem like we've got any other options.” MacCready rolls his arms, stretching the sore muscles, before slinging his gun back over his shoulder. He stops mid step, turning around to raise a sarcastic brow at Hancock. “If that's okay with you, _Boss.”_

“You're a grown man, 'Cready, why the hell ya askin' me?” Hancock steps around the other man, missing the over exaggerated eye roll thrown at his back.

Nick stops by her side, ducking his head low so only she can hear, “How do you put up with these two clowns?”

Avery laughs. “Just smile and roll with it.”

Nick shrugs, a chuckle of his own rumbling in his throat. “Guess you could say that about most folks, too.”

As they near the building, an unfamiliar voice breaks the silence. “You better stop right where you're at, 'less you wanna lose a limb.”

Instinctively, Avery reaches for the pistol holstered at her hip, stopping short as Hancock waves her down. “Ain't lookin' for trouble, Brother. Just lookin' for some shelter.”

A man dressed in a ratty white T and worn jeans steps out of the darkened building “All the way out here?” Out of the corner of her eye, she spots another figure, the metal glint of a gun shining in the moonlight. The others must see it as well, each reaching for their weapons, until Hancock waves them down as well.

“Just told ya, we're not lookin' for trouble.” Hancock steps forward, his demeanor calm despite the red dot of the scope now pointing at his chest. “ And what about you? Got anything to do with those raiders holed up at the Ironworks?”

The stranger steps fully out into the opening, into the dimming light of day, revealing more of his feature. His voice gave it away, but seeing his irradiated flesh, his telltale onyx eyes, there was no denying that this man was a ghoul.

Beside her, Hancock throws his arms out in welcoming. “Well, shit,” he takes another step forward, ignoring the red dot now at his skull, “There's a face I thought I'd never see again!”

Confusion crosses the strangers face, followed by surprise. “Hancock? Well, I'll be damned,” he holds up a hand, motioning to the sniper behind him, and the red dot disappears from sight.

“Wait, you know this guy?” MacCreadys eyes dart between Hancock and the stranger.

“You could say that,” Hancock accepts the mans outstretched hand, clapping him on the back. “Me and the Wiseman go way back, ain't that right?”

Weiss Mann? Wiseman? Averys looks him over, unsure if she herself should trust this man. Hancock was a good judge of character, she knew that much, but threats don't usually make for a good first impression in her book.

“Sure do, but I gotta say, last time I saw you, you looked a little more...fleshy.” Wiseman grins.

“What can I say?” Hancock looks down at himself, “New life, new look.”

“So are the rumors true?” Hancock cocks a questioning brow at the question. “That you're the big man in charge of Goodneighbor?”

“The one and only,” He gestures to himself, pride in his eyes. “And what about you? Last I saw you was when my asshole of a brother kicked us all out.”

The Wiseman snorts, “Kicked _us_ out,” he gestures to the rest of the ghouls. “You just came along for the ride, smoothskin.”

Hancock shrugs, ignoring the outdated nickname. “You know that ain't my style, Brother. Don't want any part of a town willing to throw their own out on the streets. Shit ain't right.”

The other man smiles, shaking his head. “I know, I'm only pullin' your leg, friend.” Wiseman turns to the rest of his group, waving them out to the open. “Don't worry, they're safe.”

One by one, they step out of the building as introductions are made. “So really, what brings you all the way out here?”

Hancock looks to Nick, who nods, giving him the go ahead. “Lookin' for somethin' my friend here needs. Got word we might find it in the old Ironworks building, but the welcoming commity was a little, uh... lacking, if you feel what I'm sayin'.”

Understanding settles on his features. “Oh, I feel ya'. Thos bastards been a thorn in our side for months now.”

“That so?” Hancock takes a look around the building, eyeing the huge trunk of weapons in the corner. She can practically see the light bulb flicker on in his head. “Tell ya what, you supply us the equipment, and we'll make sure you never gotta see another one of those pricks again, whatya say?”

Wiseman is silent for a moment, the wheels turning, before he looks to the rest of his group. A few of them nod in agreement, others shaking their heads, while the rest stare back in a questioning gaze. Finally, he turns back to Hancock, eyeing him up. “You mind giving us a minute?”

Hancock nods, turning to his companions, waving them out, “You heard the guy, give 'em some privacy.”

Once they're outside, the door is closed behind them, leaving them waiting in the darkness.

 

 


End file.
